


The Witch Crown

by Jayf



Category: Queen's Blade, Worm - Wildbow
Genre: F/F, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-31
Updated: 2016-07-31
Packaged: 2018-07-28 09:47:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 18
Words: 81,728
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7635556
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jayf/pseuds/Jayf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I am Taylor Hebert, Daughter of Annelotte Hebert Kreutz. I am the Swamp Witch reborn.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Arc 1.1 Possession (Danny)

And yes, that Queen's Blade. The infamous anime with bondage and exploding acidic breasts in the first episode. Here's hoping you guys like it and can give me some comments on how and where to improve on.

The Witch Crown

 

A Worm/ Queen’s Blade Crossover.

 

Arc 1.1 Possession (Danny)(a)

///////////////////////////

Danny Herbert

//////////////////////////

My wife and daughter were clinically dead for ten minutes when Annette was giving birth in the operating theatre. It was sudden and had not been accompanied by any flashy lights or costumed supermen playing their games. One moment, breathing and struggling to begat new life, the next, two lives snuffed out like a candle and the flesh going cold.

And just as quickly as the doctors gave up resuscitation efforts, Annette’s eyes snapped open and she turned the most piercing, judging gaze I’ve ever seen on the woman I loved on everyone in the room. Despite her pale complexion, the gasping for air and apparent frailty expected of a new mother that look in her eyes made everyone in that room shiver like the condemned before a hanging judge. I was certain that she was now one of those capes whose existence made our lives miserable and blessed in great measure.

The stillness of the room was broken by the lusty cries of a newborn child and my heart ached to rush towards my daughter who had been surgically removed from Annette and left for dead. But that steely gaze on my newly alive wife kept us all frozen to the spot.

Then she broke into a warm smile and all thoughts of my wife being dead and replaced disappeared. I hugged her tightly, afraid she’d die again.

////////////////////////

I had always considered myself a rather progressive kinda guy. Not the one who’d leap headfirst into the newest social trend or shifting mores, but someone who won’t flip out when my daughter takes home a boy who’s not perfectly clean cut, respectful and won’t so much as touch a single hair on her body before her wedding night.

I’d take him to a corner to make a few death threats if he doesn’t take my daughter home safe and early, but I won’t flip out.

So I’d never imagined myself feeling all sorts of inadequate as I watch my wife being fawned upon by men and women of the upper crust of what’s left Brockton Bay’s social elite in the café of a country club. Judges, CEOs, politicians and high powered businessmen gathered around my wife who’s a humble English professor of lower middle class birth and means. The crowd striving for her attention while engaging in social combat with sly but polite putdowns about the inadequacies of their potential rivals.

It was like high school all over again, and I’m the plain wallflower who’s somehow attached to the hottest girl in school.

“Whoever said that a woman’s looks start going downhill after giving birth is spouting some Master grade bullshit, because your wife is living proof to the contrary.”

I turned around to glare at the source of that unwanted but all too familiar commentary on my spouse. A certain redheaded divorce lawyer was grinning at me, nursing a drink in his hand while wearing the standard country club ensemble of a polo t-shirt with white pants. He raised his glass in greeting while his grin got wider.

“You should probably know, won’t you, Mr Alan Barnes? It only took you nearly a year before you’d stop gaping at the wife of a friend of twenty years. “

Alan chuckled at my ribbing as he placed his free arm over my shoulder while he pointed to my wife holding court with the cream of Brockton Bay’s social scene. A few of the plainer looking women had moved to outer rims of the circle that had gathered around my wife Annette while a few of the women who were closer to Annette personally whispered things into her ear. The men on the other hand were glaring at one another while sporting transparently fake smiles. Quite a few were intruding on the personal space of their closest counterpart, in an attempt to intimidate.

“I understand Annette has a Masters in European History?”

Alan was asking a rhetorical question of course. He had sat through more than one of her impromptu lectures of early modern period French Court etiquette though it was more like a recounting of a life lived rather than a lecture of a dry academic when Annette spoke of long dead European royalty.

“You going somewhere with that line of questioning, or are you just going to waste the court’s time?”

My old friend raised an eyebrow at my comeback before laughing out loud, catching the attention of several of Annette’s gaggle of hanger-on’s. Alan then settled for smiling the smuggest smile I’ve seen in a while and the man can do a lot of smug. It made me wish we were in high school just so I can flush Alan’s head in the toilet.

You know, as a friendly prank between friends.

“ What I’m saying, Danny, is that your wife has an obvious love for re-enacting because I’m feeling like this is an afternoon party in the gardens of the Sun King, Louis the Fifteenth. All we need now is some whipping boys, a few poodles running around yapping away and powdered wigs and we’re all set.”

I was sure that Alan had gotten the powdered wigs, whipping boys and French King who was actually the Sun King wrong, but I decided that needling him on that wasn’t needed. So I settled for grumbling instead.

“I certainly don’t feel like a king in my own palace garden, Alan.”

Alan’s expression turned melancholic as he shook his head.

“You’re not the king, Danny.”

My friend pointed Annette, a calm radiating presence in surrounded by overeager courtiers.

“She is. Long live the queen.”

Shouting from the fringes of the circle around Annette caught my attention as I saw two elderly men start shoving each other while the rest of crowd gave space to a potential fracas about to breakout. I recognised the two as a District Judge and also the head of the Brockton Chamber of Commerce Rupert Thornly. In other circumstances, I would have hoped for the judge to soundly beat the behind of Thornly because just last week he had propositioned my wife. I still felt the tingle of satisfaction when Annette had publicly rejected his indecent proposal and did it in such a way that everyone knew he was a dirty old man who got shot down. It is not very nice of me to feel satisfaction over a man’s ruined reputation, but he propositioned my wife, so fuck him.

But the potential brawl between two senior citizens was a bit too close for comfort to Annette for me, so I strode towards her purposefully, daring those rich parasites to try and stop me from my spouse.

“Annette, we’ve got to go. Taylor’s sitter is leaving in half an hour!” I shouted over the crowd and they turned to face me. Almost all of them wore various degrees of murderous expressions, except for Annette who smiled and stretched out her hands towards me. On cue, the crowd surrounding her parted ways for me to approach her, their expressions switching to strained smiles as if they’ve sucked on a lemon.

Feelings of annoyance started to boil inside of me. Annette Rose Herbert was my wife. I was not supposed to be vying for her affection and attention like some mistress! As I looked at her smile for me, the building feelings melted away as I saw in her smile a warmth and affection that was lacking when she was facing the others.

 

I suppose I can let this go for…the tenth time? And the sudden need for dramatic gestures she had developed after giving birth to Taylor. That one can go too.

////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

The feeling that my wife had changed almost completely continues to gnaw at me even as I began driving home. Taylor’s sitter was not due to leave for another hour and the drive home from the country club only took half that time.

A country club. A part of my brain still wonders if I had gone mad and I was dreaming all of this. An employee of a Dockworker Union where the docks aren’t doing any business due to world ending sea monsters should have no business in a gathering of snooty rich elites. I called that part of my brain the logical part of my brain and even after adjusting for a world of people with superpowers running around in their jammies it was still screaming something was wrong.

I decided to take the scenic route to clear my thoughts. I found myself doing it a lot more often since Taylor was born and my wife did something that threatens to blow my mind.

I snuck glances at Annette as she stared out of the window onto the view. The club was located on a hill out of town and a drive down the winding route offered a bird’s eye view of most of Brockton Bay.

Annette Rose Herbert is a stunning woman and she was not one when I married her. The woman I married was tall, slim with minimal curves and had a pair of lips that were too thin. Her hair was long, dark and wavy and kept simple and neat. She was very expressive and a lovely warm woman and I love her more than any other woman in the world. But she was not someone who’d grab the attention of everyone on the street when she walked on it.

The postnatal Mrs Herbert on the other hand, was a bombshell that hits harder than Behemoth on a city full of capes. I did not quite notice it at first. The change was gradual but it was noticeable after a few weeks. The shapely curves, the fuller lips, the skin that was blemish free and radiated vigour. As she got well enough to walk again, there was a very noticeable change in her stride.

Annette always had a quiet, mature confidence in her, one that suited the inner strength that had attracted to me to her. This new Annette glided with a regal poise and barely concealed swagger that demanded everyone look at her. Awkward during the first few days after her recovery, her poise soon grew into a confident stride that demanded attention.

“You’re staring again, Danny. Maybe you’d like to park at the side so you can have a better look?”

I fumbled with the wheel as Annette’s purring tease jolted me into realising I was lost in admiring my wife like some obsessed voyeur. Purposefully keeping my eyes on the road, I tried to ignore the burning sensation on my cheeks or the giggling of my spouse.

“You know, the offer’s still open Danny. “ Annette said causally as she resumed looking at the scenery.

“The one where you offered to be tested by the PRT for being a parahuman?” I said far more stiffly than I had intended. The car rolled to a stop as I exited the winding path from the club and I parked on the shoulder of the road.

“Yes, that one Danny. “ All signs of humour had vanished as she looked at me expectantly with a hard expression. Seeing me hesitate, Annette pressed on.

“I’m your wife! I know that you’re doubtful if I’m some parahuman Villain who replaced your wife or messed with your mind. “

She grabbed my hand reassuringly and her face softened as she continued, “I just want to let you know, that I’m still Annette. It’s natural for you to think I’ve triggered to be some cape, since you know, dying during childbirth and then coming back to life. “

Annette squeezed my hand as she looked me in the eye. “I don’t want this doubt to fester between us, Danny.”

If I wasn’t sure telepathy was impossible except for the Simurgh, I’d have been convinced that my wife was reading my mind and making me feel like a heel.

I considered my next words carefully, aware that a wrong turn of phrase can damage our relationship irreparably.

“Annette, I want to believe in you, without having someone like PRT having to vouch that you’re telling me the truth. “ I saw my missus flinch as if she had been slapped and I felt a stab of guilt in return. But I knew I had to continue.

“Ever since you left that hospital, when you gave birth to Taylor. I... damn it!” Searching for words as I struggled to let the words go, I decided to just let it all out.

I told her. How she changed in a way I cannot understand. How if she had changed completely, it’d actually be easier for me since then I’d know someone had taken your place in that hospital ward. That someone was wearing the face of Annette Herbert for what? Daniel Herbert is not someone important enough for some supervillain to target.

But for every bit of her that’s changed from the quiet gentle woman I’ve fell in love with to Annette the Prom Queen, there’s still the part of the old Annette that’s how the way I’ve known. All the little moments together, the way you like our shared cup of tea and even the events that I’ve forgotten about but you still remember and needle me with.

That’s how I believe that the stunning woman seated next to me is Annette Rose Hebert and not some freak in a costume using you.

As I let my spiel continue, pouring out my doubts over the past year and half, I saw Annette’s face twist with grief as she broke into heaving sobs. As I finished my thoughts, I saw her make up running from the tears as she bit her lips in an attempt to stifle her crying.

“Even now she looks inhumanly beautiful.” I pushed those thoughts away and I pulled her in for a hug and felt her return my affection even as her crying grew louder.

I’ve no idea how long it took for the crying to die down. I kept my eyes closed as I didn’t really want to see her so hurt and preferred to just feel her next to me. My eyes only opened as I heard her start speaking hoarsely and I looked at her as she spoke.

“Danny, I… I’m so sorry. It’s just that I didn’t expect you to be so...” Sparring my wife, I finished her sentence for her.

“Left out? Neglected? Annette, I know women usually undergo drastic change after their first child, but most of them only let their figures go, rather than transform into Mrs Popular Amateur model.”

I received a punch in the shoulder for that attempt to lighten things up. I didn’t think that I’d be getting any offers soon, but if it helps Annette feel better than as far as I’m concerned I’ve brought the house down.

“Danny.” Annette asked lightly,” What do you remember of my life before I arrived here in New England?”

I racked my brains as I went through her history. Born in Quebec, moved to Newfoundland before Leviathan forced her and her family to flee to the US. It was then I realised I never asked about her life when she was in Canada.

“I was a bit of a social butterfly back when I was in school all the way to college.” Annette offered, “After arriving in America, I stopped being so active in the popularity sweepstakes since it brings up so many memories. “

“So why get back in the game now? Why the eagerness after Taylor?”

She sighed as I saw her grimace. A long suffering look was etched on her face as she started playing with her hair.

“Being friendly with people I don’t really like means Taylor can learn to be around people and be liked by them. As I was before she arrived, I don’t think I’d be equipping her with the right skills for her in life. “

I disagreed quite vehemently with what Annette was saying. Being Ms Prom Queen brought a whole set of problems with it, one of which involves dirty old Heads of Commerce Chambers, but I kept my peace. Even if I disagree, I guess Taylor will have to choose when she grows older.

“So Danny. Does the PRT have a nursery suitable for children under the age of two?”

I looked at Annette in surprise.

“I want to go to the PRT, Danny. I want to clear this once and for all. I don’t know if I have triggered. But I do know I want to keep you in the loop from now on. No more assuming you know what I’m thinking. We are getting this done. Today. “

I pulled her in closer for another hug and felt her shivering. No matter what the results say, the Annette Rose Herbert in my arms today is the same as the one whom I married. No more lies between us.

/////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

I returned from work an hour earlier than usual. Three weeks had passed since Annette got herself tested at the PRT and the results came back negative. It lifted a weight in my heart that my wife was not some parahuman body snatcher and was simply reverting to her practices in youth that she never told me about before.

No superpowers bullshit here. Merely bad communication that nearly killed a marriage. Completely mundane and manageable. To celebrate the discovery that whatever issues our marriage have were decidedly human in nature, Annette bought a tape recorder. I’d suggest jewellery, but she reminded me of our stretched finances. The freebies Annette got from her amateur modelling and popularity didn’t translate into a higher source of income.

Yet. I have a feeling Annette has that angle covered too.

I walked slowly and quietly to the basement that Annette had converted to a nursery, hoping to give her a surprise. She had insisted on using the basement, despite us still having spare rooms. She said she liked the quietness down there and it was warm in the winter.

Approaching the entrance, I heard Annette speaking in French and the distinct click of the tape recorder as she finished her sentences. Using the best of my almost forgotten lessons from high school and what little I picked up from my Canadian dockworkers, I listened in on her recording sessions.

I picked up something about numbers. It almost sounded like she was reciting some figures though I did not quite pick up on what they referred to. I did hear some phrases I could translate however.

Sorcière

Chevalier

Reine

Physics?

I chuckled as the pieces fit together. Annette was piecing together a fantasy novel, and it’s going to be a New Englander in King Charlemagne’s Court.

I opened the door and went down the steps to find a table with an empty cot next to it and a tape recorder on the table. No sign of my wife and child but then I felt the touch of very sharp cold steel at the back of my neck.

“…Danny?” I let go of a breath I didn’t know I was holding as I turned around and saw Annette holding our daughter in her left arm while clutching a golden ballpoint pen in her right.

“You know, that pen’s tip felt a lot bigger when it was pointing at the back of my neck.”

Annette was standing next to the steps leading into the house and was partially covered in the shade. I saw a flash of steel on her right hand and the faint outline of a gauntlet as the light reflected against it before I looked closer and saw nothing there.

The lighting in the basement needs some massive improvement if I seeing things that are not there.

“Your mind can play tricks on you when someone points a sharp metal object in a vulnerable place, my dear.”

The hard look on my wife’s face makes me inclined to agree.


	2. 1.1 Possession Danny (b)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Annette dies, and Danny suspects his daughter is unusual

///////////////////////////

Danny Herbert

///////////////////////////

Annette and I decided to celebrate Taylor’s fourth birthday in the park just two blocks south of the Boardwalk. Pine tree acorns littered the grounds as Taylor raced ahead of us squealing in delight once the doors of the car opened while Annette and I followed behind.

Even if it was mid-June, the early morning was cool enough that Annette was wearing a beige wool cardigan and sweatpants as she strolled ahead of me while our daughter delighted herself diving into the vegetation pilling up near the trees. Annette strolled ahead, an ever-present thin smile of satisfaction lighting up her face while poor little Danny Boy-me- was left trudging along with a picnic basket and a mat.

“Hey girls! Mind helping out your old man with the basket?” I called out to them knowing that they’d never help. Too busy to having fun as mother and daughter to bother with the peon work after all. Sure enough, Annette turned around, stuck out her tongue at me before dashing head first into the leaf pile to join Taylor. It was times like this that made me glad we don’t have a dog, because it was likely that he’d abandon me to join them in the fun too. Watching the two most important women in my life enjoying themselves, I felt a sense of pride and satisfaction burn in my chest before turning back to setting the mat.

Removing a bottle of wine from the basket, a loud sound that sounded like a cross between a sudden bolt of lightning and a car engine backfiring caused me to tumble onto the grass in shock. I turned towards Annette and Taylor and saw my little girl bawling while clinging onto her mom’s cardigan. My wife’s left sleeve was had a growing blood stain while her hand clenched into a fist. Picking myself up, I rushed over to have a closer look at Annette who was trying to soothe Taylor. I noted the distinct smell of burning ozone which triggered the fear of a possible Tinker weapon as I looked over Annette’s wounded arm, I ripped open the sleeve of the cardigan and sighed in relief. Despite the blood, I saw that it was grazing cut than something potentially more dangerous. Helping the two of them up, I quickly bundled mother and child into the car and drove to Brockton General.

“Any idea what hit you? It’d probably help the doctors to fix you up?’ I asked Annette while waiting for a traffic light to go green.

Annette shook her head while adjusting herself in the seat. “Maybe some gangbangers were having their little war nearby and it’s a stray shot.” Annette gritted out her thoughts as she tried to calm down our daughter. “Just happy Taylor’s okay. “ I nodded in agreement as my wife unclenched her fist, letting pine needles and bits of crushed acorn fall out of her grasp. Taylor flinched away from the broken plant life and began sobbing again.

Taylor always made sure to stay a healthy distance from pine trees from then on.

///////////////////////////////////////////////////

As the rented SUV pulled into the driveway, I waited expectantly for my six year old bundle of boundless of energy to make her dramatic entrance as she always does when returning home from a camping trip. I did not have to wait too long before Taylor darted out of a half opened door and leapt at me like a miniature rugby player.

She also hits like one too as I noted the slight jolt of pain in my chest when she tackled me and I stumbled from a six year old’s lunge. Thank God these trips tend to drain Taylor’s excess energy and make her less excitable. She can really hurt some of the other kids if she played half as rough with her peers like she does with me.

Laying down my daughter from our hug, I saw Annette approaching slowly looking completely haggard. I held Taylor back from doing the tackle greeting on her mom since Annette looked like a slightly lively breeze could knock her flat on her ass right now. I knelt down face to face with Taylor as I decided I needed to talk with my wife without an excitable six year old listening in.

“Hey kiddo, why don’t you go to your room and see if anything’s missing from your bag for your first day of elementary school tomorrow. Mommy and I have some grown up stuff to talk about.”

The magic words of grown up stuff worked as Taylor’s face fell upon realising her parents are about to speak about things she finds boring. Grabbing the opportunity, my little girl nodded eagerly and skipped into the house, away from the adult talk about to occur. Annette walked up to me, looking almost as tired and drained as the day where she gave birth, died and rose from the dead in a span of ten minutes. The confidence and boundless energy was replaced with a world-weariness that’s more in character for me than the life of the party that was my wife.

“Danny, sweetie. Help me to the den please.” Annette whispered hoarsely as she leaned against me for support. Nodding my assent, I huffed before sweeping her off her feet into a bridal carry, prompting a yelp of surprise before she laughed lightly at my gesture, her tired features visibly brightening.

“Reminds you of our wedding night, doesn’t it, “I whispered to Annette as she giggled before burying her face in my chest. I got a whiff of her hair, enjoying the scent of her shampoo that smelled of jasmine and lilies before going towards the den.

The den, as my wife, calls it was actually the nursery that was converted from our basement. Taylor had grown too old for a nursery by now, but Annette still had a fondness for the room and had converted it to her personal study. Carpeted with rugs of red and regal purple, an oak desk stood in the centre of the room and a sofa which doubled as a cot was located in the corner of the room. Over the years, Annette had acquired a collection of ornamental medieval weapons, which were mounted and displayed on the walls. Weapons which frankly unnerved me despite their supposedly harmless nature as decoration pieces. No ornamental sword has any business looking that sharp.

I laid Annette down on the sofa before grabbing a chair from the desk and sat next to her. I saw her eyes closing and considered letting her rest before I decided this talk was too important to leave to a later date. I gently placed my hand on her shoulder, which prompted my wife to look at me with half lidded eyes.

“Annette. This is the fifth time you’ve brought Taylor out for a camping trip without me and you look steadily more drained each time round. I’m worried you are driving yourself to the ground like this. Why don’t you let me join in so you don’t collapse into a heap from exhaustion every time you come back?”

My wife sighed before she replied in a long suffering tone, “Danny, I’d love to have you with me when camping so someone else can handle our little dynamo, but your work...”

“My work can be delegated to some of the other guys in the Union. You know that. Kurt is capable of handling some of my duties for a while. “I interrupted her as I saw where this was going, “You’re the one who insist that I continue my work while you take off with our daughter into the woods.”

I fought to suppress my temper as I saw Annette frown in frustration. A minute of frustrating silence ensued before her face softened into a mask of exhausted resignation.

“I really want you to be with us when we are out in the woods Danny. But Taylor, well our little girl needs to be guided firmly and carefully. It’s like a controlled burning you know, her passion and energy needs to be guided carefully before she burns down the whole place.”

Pointing at my chest for emphasis, my wife stated plainly, “Imagine she did something like that to her classmates. What’s going to happen to them? She got your, no... our tempers Danny and you’re like dry timber that’d cause her to ignite while I try to direct the blaze somewhere safe. “

I silently conceded the point to myself. Annette can be ice cold when she’s laying down the law and it’s more effective than my broiling temper when it comes to getting Taylor to listen.

Annette closed her eyes fully now as she continued speaking in a low voice, “In any case, I think I’ve done enough redirecting the inferno that’s Taylor Herbert. No more camping trips with just me and our little fireball. I promise. “

My shoulders sagged in relief as I realised my stubborn spouse has granted me one of my rare victories when we butt heads. I leaned over to kiss her on the forehead and she purred in delight. Pulling a blanket over her, I walked out of the basement to prepare dinner. Walking pass the stairs, I looked in the direction of Taylor’s room.

A little fireball huh?

[IMG]

 

////////////////////////

“Mr Hebert. Taylor’s got into a fight with her classmate and hurt him quite badly.”

Words no parent ever want to hear, ranking right below the police informing you of your spawn bringing a gun to school or they’ve found her in a crumpled wreck of a vehicle. The only consolation was that hurt badly in this case was bruised, knocked off their feet with some bleeding badly than ambulance and police badly

Walking into the principal’s office, I saw Annette seated next to our daughter grasping her hands tightly despite her failing health. In recognition of her contributions to the fund raisers held for the Brockton U over the past few years, the college management approved a sabbatical on full pay and benefits for her until her condition improves.

My wife came in her best office attire of a cream coloured pantsuit and light make up with her game face on, which she had used to great effect whether it’s to get donors to part with large sums of money for Brockton U or in this case, pacify an elementary school principal.

“I can assure you, Mr Singer. Reggie’s parents have agreed to settle the issue amicably with minimal fuss. There will be no further issues arising from this playground scuffle.” Annette crooned in the smooth tones I’ve seen her use when defusing social time bombs.

“I suppose I will have to take your word for it, Mrs Hebert. I have your assurance that Taylor has learnt her lesson on this matter?” Principal Singer, a rough looking Caucasian man in his fifties, rumbled out in baritone Commonwealth accent as he turned his glare on my daughter, who buried her face into Annette’s chest.

“She is. Very much so, Mr Singer. I’m currently on a sabbatical from Brockton University, so I have plenty of time to ensure that Taylor learns from this.” Annette grabbed Taylor’s hand, flashed one more smile at the principal before marching off with our daughter in tow from the office.

I watched my family leave the office and was about to join them before the principal called out to me. Turning to face him, I saw him gesturing to the seat Annette had just vacated and gave me a half smile. I can see Principal Singer is more used to scowling that smiling.

“Mr Hebert. The reason why I’ve waylaid you from joining your family is because I feel it necessary to get a perspective of your daughter’s family life from parents to pre-empt any possible issues, present or future.” The principal leaned forward as he spoke in a lower voice, “While Mrs Herbert is as I understand the parent who’s with Taylor most of the time, she is intensely private about the methods she uses in educating her daughter Do not mistake me for condemning her ways, Mr Herbert, “Singer raised his arms in a placating gesture as he noted my face hardening at the implication my wife had something to hide regarding the ways she raised our child.

“Taylor is a very bright and polite child. Not exactly at prodigy or Parahuman Tinker levels definitely, but she is smart and sometimes displays a flair for leadership and the ability to grab people’s attention when she lets herself be more natural. For an eight year old, your child is uncommonly reserved. Her athletic ability, her charm when she lets it out should have her be the most popular girl in the grade. As it is, she has a circle of friends, but she’s holding back by a lot.”

I felt alarm building as I considered the principal’s words, “Are you suggesting that they may be some kind of abuse or my daughter is suffering from a disorder of some sort.”

“No, of course not! “ The burly educator exclaimed in shock towards the dark turn of thoughts I have turned to. “I am suggesting however that however Mrs Herbert is raising her daughter makes me worried she might be too restrictive on her development. Repress if too much and it will cause problems down the road.”

“Elaborate please.” I growled out.

“Certainly. Your daughter is extremely athletic as I’ve previously said. So much to the extent that we tend to pair her with students older than her when it comes to gym class much like today. Reggie Hertzog, the young man which you daughter brought low today, is three years her senior and also has ten inches and thirty pounds on her. He also has a disciplinary issue with use of improper language against some of the students. “

Singer paused for effect before he continued, “Your daughter took him down with a single opened palm strike, Mr Hebert. No a slap thrown out by a child in anger, but a bona fide, well aimed and executed palm strike with stance and all that went straight for the throat. Taylor barely missed doing some serious permanent damage by getting the collarbone instead and because it was not another eight year old girl she lashed out at. “

I gaped in surprise at the ludicrous statement I was hearing and bit down a laugh to not openly mock my daughter’s principal. “My eight year old daughter who’s raised mostly by a college English professor is some ninja kung fu master?”

Singer’s face was neutral and all business like as he observed my reaction. At the very least, he believed what he was saying.

“As you can probably tell from my accent, I am not a native to North America. Back in Vietnam when I served in the Royal Australian Navy as part of the Commonwealth contingent, I’ve seen several Sandhurst graduated officers carry themselves in the same manner as Taylor. Men capable of great violence who have that distinct gait that signals a bloodlust that’s contained by a lifetime of values and lessons drilled by an unforgiving system designed to confine their glee for battle to avenues deemed more useful. I have no idea how an eight year old lower middle class American girl developed the same gait as grown men of upper class birth trained for violence, but it’s there.”

The war’s obviously gotten to Mr Singer, so much that an incident of violence between children would cause him to confuse his old war buddies and my little girl. Still, I can humour him despite his eccentric behaviour.

“I will be sure to speak to my wife on not turning my daughter into a vicious killer, Mr Singer. “ I managed the straight face, but I failed in the withholding of my obvious sarcasm. “

I saw the educator deflate in disappointment as he stood up. The man really does believe in what he had just said!

“Allow me to walk you to your car, Mr Herbert.”

I really hope he’s not going to use this opportunity to convince me Annette is training a cabal of ninja assassins.

//////////////////////////////////////////

Despite Brockton University agreeing to extend Annette’s sabbatical for another year, I do not see my wife return either to her teaching or fund raising duties soon. Or ever for that matter.

The same hushed tones, the sideway glances and the eager noting of whatever it was doctors and nurses write into those clipboard of theirs. The same thing had happened when my father died from live failure caused by rampant alcoholism and now the same advice is being delivered in the same clipped, forced sympathetic tone of voice.

“Please inform her next of kin.”

I sat defeated next to Annette’s bedside, looking on helplessly as the machines and tubes stuck into her body countdown to her inevitable passing. The doctors could not diagnose the reason for the breakdown of her body as it wore down from some unknown illness. Her break from work had slowed down her declining health from getting worse, but Annette got weaker and weaker still. And there was nothing I can do about it.

I felt a soft hand pat my back reassuringly and saw a woman with lavender hair, reddish brown eyes and elfin features smile gently at me. Wearing a white plain t-shirt and black jeans, my eyes, despite the grief I felt with the imminent passing of my wife, wandered to the clothes barely covered her buxom figure that bordered on the unreal and obscene.

Forcing myself to smile and focus on her face, I gave her a tired smile in greeting.

“Thanks Aldra, for making it here on such notice. I’m sure that Annette will appreciate her elder sister being here for her.”

My only known surviving in law smiled in return as she hugged me gently. “Don’t mention it, Danny. I’m not leaving Annette alone.”

I heard approaching footsteps running towards us before the doors to the ward swung open and Taylor jogged towards us. Her eyes red from crying, my daughter whispered thanks to Aldra and wordlessly pulled me into a hug before she knelt in front of the bed and grasped Annette’s hands.

At barely eleven, Taylor was almost as tall as my shoulder and in contrast to her mother, grew stronger and more vibrant. Always loud and a forceful personality, the last year had seen her grow out of three sets of clothing. Rather than tall and lanky, Taylor’s physical presence was large and domineering.

I found it hard to look at my daughter yearning for her mother on death’s bed, because a vile part of me was saying Taylor stole my wife from me.

//////////////////////////////

It was a warm summer day where the rain fell gently when we buried Annette.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Danny's part took longer then expected, so I've broken it into two parts.
> 
> I'd probably be doing an intro to QB soon as well as a preview on what elements of the extended QB universe I'd be bringing in.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A user guide to the Queen's Blade Universe

A Traveller’s Guide to the Queen’s Blade.

 

Here's the Intro to the Queen's Blade Universe. I've made several changes to the story canon and also introduced elements from the game as needed.

For those who are confused so far, pay attention to the parts detailing the end of the Queen's Blade, the Swamp Witch, the Demon Gates and Queen Annelotte who's encamped in the Swamp.

A Traveller’s Guide to the Queen’s Blade.

Greetings, fair traveller.

My name is Yuit, formerly the Strategist of the Rebel Army and the Continent’s Second Greatest, most Brilliant Alchemist, Scholar, Sage, Genius, Creator of Vante and all other Automatons now and forever and all around smart cookie. Those posers like Ymir, Cattleya, and Elin can go suck off one of Furinkura’s many purple throbbing tentacles if they think they’re ever going to get second place. Who’s the First if I’m Second you ask? Why, Mistress Cyan of course.

And if you have no idea who’s Mistress Cyan, then you are reading the right thing, because this means you’re either some hick from Hinomoto who somehow never learnt to cook their fish despite worshipping fire, a foreigner from one of the island nations around the Continent or an inter-dimensional traveller, of which we have many thanks to those darned Queen’s Gates lying around. I’d call you ignorant, but then I’d be repeating myself.

Also, over the last half decade we’ve had two noted incidents when said travellers were working for cross dimensional entities that were trying to do something dastardly to our world and we had to go to great pains to stop their evil plans. This usually involves us dogpiling on the minions of the entities and then travelling across with the Queen’s Gates to dogpile on their employer too.

Dogpiling works, always. So if you are the minion of some dimensional scourge, get a number and we’d get you lined up for a righteous smiting post haste.

See? I can mock you, threaten you and even educate you even though I’m not here and haven’t even published this pamphlet! Call it a pre-emptive mocking, whoever or whatever you are.

First, another much needed introduction to my brilliant self. I served during the War of the Thunder for twelve years as Strategist and Alchemist and was made Chancellor of her Majesty, Queen Annelotte Armina Alphonse von Kreutz. Ruler of Gainos, Protector of the Church of Heavenly Light, Defender of the Continent and her Cities and Peoples, Slayer of the Widowmaker Witch at the end of the war.

That was a mouthful of a title but the entire extent of the Queen’s title is as brief as the names of the sides fighting in the War of the Thunder was creative, which is not at all. I mean, I had sooo many nice, noble names that’d inspire our soldiers to fight harder to overthrow that tyrant Claudette, but nope, Big brother Annelotte liked the ring of the term Rebel Knight Princess and it stuck harder than dried Holy Milk from an Angel. So the War of the Thunder was fought by the righteous Rebel Army against the tyrannical Queen’s Army led by the Storm Queen Claudette.

Don’t ask about what Holy Milk is or why I called the Queen Big Brother. I’m not going to reveal that the Head Angels’ a twenty feet tall pervert with breasts the size of a carriage who limits the powers of the Angels with bottles of white sticky milk or that Queen Annelotte cross-dressed as a man till she was nineteen.

I do however have a theory that the milk is from the carriage sized chest tumors of the Head Angel. If I were able to find a way to enter the realm of the Angels they so haughtily named Heaven, I will find out the truth.

Alright, back to your education. First, a history lesson

The Swamp Witch, the Gates and the Curse of the Widowmaker.

 

One hundred and forty years ago, the Swamp Witch appeared in the Northeast of the Continent. The Witch was a being which hated all life, regardless of species. She appeared anywhere, struck at any time and could be at several places in as much numbers she wished. The Witch grew stronger as more died due to her machinations. A grand alliance of Men, Angel, Elf and Dwarf was formed to counter this threat. As a concession for their joining the alliance, Heaven led by the Head Angel allowed the Netherworld Demons to open a permanent chasm near where the Swamp Witch had made her home called the Demon’s Gate. The Demon’s Gate own constant unending source of chaotic Demonic life energy both weakened the Witch’s powers and had an added bonus of trapping the Witch in the Swamp. As a show of goodwill, the Demons taught the other races the secret of Dimension travelling, allowing them to construct the Queen's Gates and restore some which were uncovered across the Continent, allowing access to otherworldly knowledge. The alliance struck and after an epic battle worthy of song and tears, the Witch’s body was destroyed and she was reduced to a frail spirit, wandering in the wind.

Or as I put it, the Witch was such a bad neighbour everyone dogpiled her to death or kind of dead.

Despite her body being reduced to nothing through liberal applications of all forms of magic and some esoteric technology dreamt up by the alchemists of their time, that hag left a nasty surprise for the good guys and not so good ones.

The alliance went home, and found that all their male children, whether in the womb, labour and below the age of twelve had dropped dead. Even the male children conceived after the men returned home were dying in the womb. The Swamp Witch had placed a curse on the Men who entered her new home, and most of the Men of the Continent had participated in this battle. The curse killed off almost an entire generation of male children and will continue doing so. Historians later called this curse the Widowmaker, because the young women of the Continent have lost their future husbands. For the Men of the Continent, they found themselves potentially the last of their kind, with little time left for a cure. Unlike the longer lived races or those whom are effectively immortal and can find a cure before replenishing the numbers, the Men of the Continent faced imminent extinction.

Cyan, the Great Alchemist and the Mother’s Spring  
It was this time that Cyan the alchemist came on the scene to offer a solution. A cure was developed in the form of the Mother’s Spring. A woman who had reached puberty would drink from a water source which has been treated by a potion developed by Cyan. Another partner would drink from the same source but leave some of the water to be passed onto the first drinker by either spitting it into a cup to be drank or it could be administered directly which is mouth to mouth. The first drinker would then be pregnant, without fail. Thus was born the Conception Ceremony. Children born of this union would reflect the parents. Were they both female, the child will always be female. Would they be one man and a woman, there’s a chance like in a natural birth the child will be of either gender. There is also a one in five chance that the Widowmaker curse will strike the male child at conception. Considering the expense of the ceremony and the potion as well as the determination needed to gamble with the possibility of a dead child, a male child became a status of great wealth for the family and the strength and fortitude of the mother.

The generation borne of this union was changed the nature of Men on the Continent forever. The race of Man had died and the Human had replaced him. The female of the race who outnumbered the male five to one on the best odds but were more likely to outnumber them seven or ten to one took centre stage from there on. She was far stronger than her parents, able to lift effortlessly life logs and stones that would take many of her male ancestors. Her skin was tough like the hide of a wyvern yet supple, firm, soft and flawless. Her face flawlessly shaped as if Cyan herself had held out an ideal image and carved it out of marble. Her hair luxurious and strong. She was tireless, her voice melodious and able to bring to vivid life the songs she sang. Her mind was sharp and brilliant, her reflexes faster still. She ran and leapt like the wind, crossing fields and meadows in the blink of an eye. This new Human, this Woman brought Humankind to heights previously unknown in the arcane arts of magic, industry and alchemy.

Not all of them had all these talents to the same extent, some had far more while others less. But each and every one of them were untouchable by conventional means when confronted by those who were born of the old ways.

The new Humankind dominated the Continent on a scale that was already under Man’s overall control due to their sheer numbers. Humankind revelled in their new strength and brilliance. They also worried what would happen if they were to war again as their parents had did.

Humans and by extension the Continent needed a new ruler suited for this new age.

They decided the female who was best at beating the daylights out of her peers was the best way to select their ruler. Wars didn’t end, it only grew smaller and was gender restricted.

The Queen’s Blade and the Bellesoldats

 

This is it. THE Event which attracts the attention of everyone on the Continent every four years. The Queen’s Blade tournament was set up to determine the ruler of the Continent. It was appropriate that the Angels of Heaven agreed to help officiate the events, for all Angels were female.

All females above the age of twelve or the equivalent of their races or species age of majority are allowed to join. Participants of the Queen’s Blade are called Bellesoldats, a compound word from the old Continental words of Beautiful and Soldier.

Males are forbidden to participate unless bound to a female participant by means of a non-independent familiar, geas, and thrall or otherwise unable to function without the consent and input of the female participant. Men were no longer needed to continue the species, but Humanity as a whole agreed that gendercide will ruin what’s left of what made them human. Battles are decided by either yielding of a side or if one side was not able to continue for any reason.

The Finals are held in the Capitol of the Continent, Gainos and selected Bellesoldats are those who are deemed to have won enough acclaim to be given an invitation to the qualifying rounds in the Sheldan Free City with the chance to the Finals in Gainos.

Between the crowning of a new Queen and the next finals of the Queen’s Blade in Gainos, any female was allowed to take up arms to be Bellesoldat and participate in the Queen’s Blade battles. A match counts only if an Angel was around to officiate it, a member of the Clergy or at least of ten registered officials in any settlements to officiate instead. The necessity of witnesses to progress prevents the use of assassination, poisoning and ganging up to advance in the ranks.

The Bellesoldat who won enough battles and gained the attention of her peers are then given a Title and the attention of an Angel. She will follow her charge as she continues to move up the ranks, announcing her name and Title to the Continent when she’s challenged under the rules of the Queen’s Blade, and will broadcast the battle with a projection spell that marks the sky with a giant screen showing the proceedings. The other Angels located in the continent will also relay the projection, so the outcome of the match is left without doubt to all people in the Continent. So it continues until the Bellesoldat's meeting with destiny in either the Sheldan Free City, Gainos or a sewer somewhere.

Slaying of the defeated results in the battle being voided though the remaining contestant is allowed to remain in the tournament and race. Should the reigning Queen be slain in battle, the survivor is considered the Runner Up and is open to compulsory challenges by any or all contestant in the finals bracket once who feels up to it. If the Runner Up is defeated, the remainder Bellesoldats will select a new Queen by a method of their choosing.

Like cross dimensional entities, the threat of dogpiling by dozens of armed Bellesoldats has been a good incentive to prevent fatalities in Queen’s Blade matches in the Finals.

[IMG]

The War of Thunder, the End of the Queen’s Blade and the Swamp Witch.  
So this system continued for a hundred and twenty years, when the 30th Queen Leina Maria Isabella Vance was crowned. The Wandering Warrior Leina had no interest in becoming Queen, for she had ran from home to avoid becoming the next Countess of Vance. So she summoned her elder half-sister Claudette Vance who was a seeded contestant due to her acclaim and the 2nd runner up in the last tournament. Queen Leina then summoned the Angel Nanael to the throne room, challenged Claudette and promptly sheathed her sword.

“I yield.” The now former Queen said as she left the crown and royal regalia on the throne and left a dumbstruck and newly minted Queen Claudette facing the throne carved out of a giant piece of jade.

Claudette Vance's Title then changed from the Lighting General, for she had been in command of the Vance County’s armies to the Storm Queen. The new Queen had been known for her fairness and benevolence when she administered the border regions of Vance County and the Continent looked forward to an age of prosperity.

The Storm Queen then promptly abolished the Queen’s Blade, the nobility’s right to their land and also began to expand both her new Army and the secret police slash assassin’s club known as the Fang. This prompted the now outlawed nobles to condemn the Queen and amass armies and arms, breaking the fragile truce that’s held among the nations in the Continent.

At the same time Queen Claudette went off the deep end, the Netherworld also experienced a regime change. The Demon King was bumped off by his daughter Werbellia. The new Queen of Demons was then mindjacked and absorbed by the Swamp Witch whose powers had recovered, and she now had a new demonic body which allows her to overcome the restrictions on her powers the Demon’s Gate once held on her.

The Continent was hurtling straight into the Demon's Gate

Needless to say, the War of Thunder and the Subsequent Second Witch Hunt was very bloody and we learnt the full extent of what sort of nastiness when a continent full of virtual superwomen goes to war. But in the end, the Storm Queen was defeated by Big Brother Queen Annelotte and after a year of preparation, we marched on the Witch’s Swamp, destroyed her army of undead and demons, tore down her castle and destroyed the Swamp Witch, body and soul.

Today, Queen Annelotte is still encamped in the Swamp, directing the reclamation efforts.

Well that’s depressing. Onto geography.

 

The Continent

 

The continent you’ve arrived in, is called the Continent. Note the capitalization and the lack of creativity in naming places. It is nine thousand miles wide from the east to west tips of the place and is shaped like a diamond in the card game that the Humans call Poker’s Blackjack goes fishing for Old Maids.

Well not really like the diamond. It’s actually more like a rectangle with the sides torn a bit for the jagged coastlines and the sides fraying. Don’t blame me, I was fiddling with a pack of that game with the too long name and it distracted me. I’m a genius, not a cartographer.

Humans have strange card games, but back to your education.

 

Hinomoto

 

Surrounding our landmass are some islands numbering in the hundreds of which Hinomoto to the east is the only one large and populated enough to be clearly marked on our maps. Their clothes are bulky and weird and if you’ve been paying attention you’d remember they never learnt to cook their fish despite worshipping fire and their ambassador keeps mistaking me for a child. Just because I’m designed to forever resemble a prepubescent Elf doesn’t make me one, you racist bastard!

I admit that I am not sure if they really worship fire, but their clergy usually does a silly little dance with a stick with straps of paper on it, so I assume they worship it. I will now give you a minute to admire my humility.

 

Gainos

 

The Capitol of the Continent, the City is surrounded by a lake which serves a moat around the city walls. Two causeways allow access by foot while canals allow access by water into the city through multiple floodgates. Multiple smaller settlements surround the city limits and form the bulk of the City’s permanent population. The residents of the walled city tend to be merchants, soldiers of the New Queen’s Army and researchers of magic.

Gainos Castle which is in the dead centre of the city is built on a floating island which rests above a pond. The castles is accessible by flight, teleportation by the Court Mages in their creepy black cloaks with hood and black bat wings or climbing the towers which link to the causeways connecting the castle to the city walls.

Why the designers of the castle of decided to have a pond above a giant floating castle and island is unknown to me. Maybe they feel that drowning the city is better than the earthquake and tremors caused by falling giant island castle if it drops.

 

Sheldan Free City  
A city of trade and entertainment. Bards, singers and dancers mingle with everyone on the streets and almost every day is a carnival here. The city has a busy seafaring port and is also home to a large airship fleet in addition to the maritime fleet. The local lord is called the Doge and she’s selected by the merchants that run this place. The Doge is committed to a policy of strict neutrality and does business with all sides in any conflict unless the Swamp Witch is involved. Well, she was until Big Brother deposed her and took the city as her capitol during the War of Thunder.  
It was my idea!

 

 

Vance County

Home of the Vance family who are the oldest and most prominent of the noble families, the last Count of Vance is a bitter old man who tried to start a war on the former Queen Aldra because he’s upset the former head of the Vance family Maria Vance died in the 28th Queen's Blade some eighteen years ago. It failed miserably of course because they didn’t have me as Strategist. My advice would have been not to fight at all. Some wars are just unwinnable even for me.

Breadbasket of the Continent and home to the largest population of Humans in the Continent, the Vance family castle is also built on a lake, linked by a causeway to the shore. The Vance Family is also known to have been the only prominent Human noble family to have not produced one single Queen’s Blade winner until Leina Vance and later Claudette Vance, who would also be the last official Queen’s Blade winner technically speaking.

Also, their sausages are to die for.

 

The Elven Forests.  
The Elven Forests are divided into three separate locations, which are the Elven forests inhabited by the Wood and High Elves, the Wild Elves who can be differentiated from their Wood and High cousins by their brown skins, dark green hair and penchant for violence and mercenary work. The Swamp Witch had driven the Wood Elves and High Elves to almost extinction and corrupted most of the Elven Forest while the Wild Elves had driven themselves to almost extinction through destructive wars with their neighbours.

The Little Elves, of which I belong to, are typically half the height of a Human adult. We are also the youngest of the Races, since we are actually Elf homunculi created by Mistress Cyan. The Little Elf Forest and Village was razed to the ground by the Queen’s Army during the War of Thunder while Mistress Cyan was away.

Now I’m depressed again. I will go tinker with my Automata later on.

 

The Calibara Forest  
Deep dense tropical forests that are icky and full of mozzies and other icky bugs and insects. The people there are Human and resemble the Wild Elves in that they’re brown skinned and are fierce fighters, except human. Also, their Priestess Luna-Luna helped Big Brother in the War and was responsible for preventing several assassinations so I owe her.

However, she’s also a filthy skank trying to seduce Big Brother and doesn’t believe in the concept of clothes other than some handkerchiefs on her privates and those breasts she keeps flaunting in my face. I’d get her to wear clothes one of these days. Also, she uses pink extendable tentacles with a brass tip to fight. I’m scared to find out exactly where or how they're growing from.

 

Shai Fang  
The people of Shai Fang look similar to the people of Hinomoto, except they don’t worship fire but pandas instead. The totem for their god is a stuffed panda. Yang Taiyang and Yang Saiyang are siblings who joint us when we saved them in a restaurant that served Shai Fang seafood. The Yang sisters proved to be great generals. Also, their country is a punchline to a joke.

The joke being Shai Fang seafood. Shai Fang is mostly mountains and landlocked.

The Kreutz March

 

The Kreutz March was traditionally ruled by the Margrave Kreutz. It is also the place where I first met Big Brother when he was still he Alphonse, rather than a she and Annelotte. Despite the area being mountainous, the March is known for their Knighthood and the Calvary. The reason is because of the Kreutz Horse which was developed by Mistress Cyan. The horses are fierce, long lasting and have toed, clawed feet allowing them to dig into steep, mountainous terrain and even cliffs, allowing for some very creative maneuverers. They were also the first to inflict some serious defeats to the Queen’s Army during the War of Thunder on the open field.

Like the Little Elves forest, much of the forts and castles of the March have been burnt to the ground. They are being rebuilt and being on the border with the Swamp, is a base for reclamation efforts.

 

The Witches’ Swamp  
The source of most of the Continent’s problems in the past century and also home to the Demon’s Gate. When the Witch was around, her dark castle loomed over the place and her presence was everywhere here. Nothing grew here and no living creature can survive for long without extensive preparation. Unlike the normal swamps and wetlands, the Witch’s Swamp has no life, plant, animal or bacteria and unprotected life is quickly subsumed and destroyed. Only the undead and Swamp Goblins who are not living as so much meat puppets raised by the Swamp Witch’s powers live there. Today, a large scale reclamation project is underway to restore life back to the place and exorcize the Witch’s presence.

 

Again that was depressing. In the next edition, I will be teaching you of the myriad races of the Continent.  



	4. Arc 1.2 Possession Annette (?)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Annette's origins revealed

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I thought of extending the chapter to include more details of Anne(lo)tte adapting to life on Earth Bet and her struggles with the many, many persons she's sharing Annette's body with. But this feels like a good place to end the chapter.
> 
> Also, Annelotte is one confused waifu. Danny's got a four in one package.

The Witch Crown

A Worm/ Queen’s Blade Crossover.

Arc 1.2 Possession Annette (?)

///////////////////////////

Annette Hebert (?)

///////////////////////////

I stood relaxed, resting against my trusted weapon Grim Venus in her lance form while I watched Claudette Vance and the remainder of her followers stagger into a huddle at a corner of the throne room of the Swamp Witch’s Castle. Surrounding me were my sworn sisters and vassals. Women of strength, courage and beauty I’d trust and have trusted with my life, ambition and dreams who stood alert, their arms drawn and spells readied in case the followers of the deposed queen were to break the truce. I watched intently as the redhead made small talk to encourage her exhausted troops and felt a twinge of jealousy mixed with admiration at her skill in lifting their spirits. The former queen then looked at me, gave a slight smile before she bowed briefly. Turning on her heels, Claudette walked out proud and unbowed, while her soldiers walked out of the room backwards facing us weapons at the ready. Despite their failing red armour showing signs of falling apart, the pride and discipline still evident reminded me why it took me ten years to beat them.

All of us waited with bated breath for signs of treachery until Luna-Luna danced into the room. With a graceful twirl, the tanned priestess gave a vicious smile as she announced in a singsong voice.

“The Vance have left the castle grounds and are headed westward. Not a single Bellesoldats within the Swamp is aligned with the usurper Claudette.”

Whoops of joy and hollering broke out among my assembled friends as we avoided a potential bloodbath. The celebration was cut short as I heard the loud, ponderous footsteps echo into the cavernous surroundings of the castle as the source approached us. The beat of these sombre footsteps seldom heralded joyful news.

The new Queen had declared war on the Kreutz. The only childhood friend whom I can love and respect as an equal killed my father the Kreutz Margrave. There was a massacre at Wascillica and Amara.

I braced myself for ill tidings as I saw Inquisitor Sigui approach flanked by her Church Paladins, her nun’s habit singed in places even as the wards and seals sewn into the garment glowed in response to the unholy energies ever-present in the place. Her hood long lost allowing her long curly locks of fiery orangey red hair flow freely. Her weapon, the Inquisitor’s Cross which is a three feet long crucifix with an axe’s edge on the side was chained to her gauntlet, was caked with blood. I saw her face sporting cuts and bruises, her dishevelled state a mirror image of my other companions here.

The solemn look on her face did not inspire confidence the news she bore was good.

“An silver of the Swamp Witch’s soul has escaped our attempts to annihilate it when we smashed her phylactery which was used as embedded into cornerstone of this castle. “ The redhead priestess intoned gravely before continuing, “We saw that fragment take a form of a wraith and sweep towards the Demon’s Gate. In her severely weakened state, the Swamp Witch will barely be able to maintain any coherent thoughts. She might end up prey to an ambitious demonic noble.”

“Oh joy, another powerful demon with the powers of the Swamp Witch!” Tanyang, a dark haired Bellesoldats from Shai Fang cut in acidly. Wearing red brigandine armour that was missing patches, she remained undeterred while Sigui shot a venomous glare for the interruption.

“But it is more likely than not that even diminished as she is now, the Swamp Witch will use the Demon’s Gate to gain access to a more pliable but potentially potent vessel on some other world.”

I nodded drowsily as I felt my strength left me and I fell backwards onto the cold stone floor, Grim Venus reverting into a sword as she clattered helplessly on the floor. I felt a buzz drown out the voices of my comrades as they surrounded me and removed my armour. I idly looked at my chest and saw a black lump of rotting flesh on my left breast. I recalled the Swamp Witch wearing the form of my birth mother Werbellia, tapping my breastplate after I had ran her through right in the centre with my lance and realised that was her farewell gift.

I vaguely heard Sigui and her paladin’s frantically cast healing magic on me and I hissed in pain as the divine magic made my demonic side quiver in rage at the defilement. Despite the pain caused by the treatment, I felt my senses return to me as the healing spells did their work and I started to hear clearly what they were saying. Gathering my breath, I called out to re-establish order.

“Yuit, Sigui, Tanyang. Attend to me. “

The trio stiffened as they recognised my command voice and they walked over stiffly before bowing before me as I sat up on the floor, helped up by two paladins. I could see Yuit trembling and her sharp ears twitch in panic, the blue and gold mantle she wore over her green bodysuit quivering as the little elf briefly shot me a look, before lowering her head again, her three feet long frame overshadowed by the other two standing next to her.

She was the closest to me, having spent our childhood together and she had deduced that what I am going to say will be thoroughly unpleasant. Time for me to confirm her suspicions.

“The three of you along with Aldra, my sister are now co-regents of the Kingdom until the day Ourselves or Our heir is ready to lead the Realm.”

The three widened their eyes in surprise and shock at my announcement. I steeled myself against the looks of heartbreak and tears forming on the faces of Saiyang and Yuit and focused on the mask of harden determination on Sigui's face.

I glanced purposefully at the throbbing black orb of flesh on my left chest, knowing that it’s only a matter of time before this human body would die. Had it not been for my Demon half, I likely would have not lasted as long as I did.

“This curse, “I pointed to the dark tumour rapidly expanding on my chest, “has the essence of the Swamp Witch in it. The silver of her soul that escaped Sigui and the Paladins,” Sigui winced at the mention of her failure, “probably has less of her than this curse she placed on me.”

I gave the inquisitor my full attention, which to her credit did not wilt under my gaze.

“The Witch has escaped through the Demon’s Gate has she not, Inquisitor? Then you know what I will do next. “I asked with a forced casualness despite the pain wreaking havoc on my nerves.

“ You wish to follow the Swamp Witch through the Gate, because Your Majesty’s…unique physiology, connection to the host of the Swamp Witch and the fact that the curse placed on you gives you a link that will help you track down your quarry in the pandemonium inside.” The inquisitor maintained an impressive mask of impassiveness, only spoiled by her bleeding lip as she bit down to control her emotions.

I felt my voice cracking in emotion as I spoke the last sentence through this pair of lips to this group of valiant women I’m proud to call my own.

“Help me to the Gate.”

/////////////////////////////////////////

The Demon’s Gate is a titanic pillar of light, which stretched to the skies with no end in sight. Pulsing red, purple, maroon, pink and then no colours at all, the people of the Continent typically knows it as the gateway by which the Demons of the Netherworld appeared on the material plane without being summoned.

That definition is at best a misleading truth, because it implies that the Demon’s Gate was a device similar to the Queen’s Gate, built for travel between dimensions.

The Demon’s Gate is not a device of inter-dimensional travel. It is a tear in the fabric of reality, where matter exists and there is something called objective reality to where reality is a polite suggestion to be ignored often and with great gusto. The Netherworld is a collection of feelings, ideas and thoughts. Borne of the desires and the knowledge of sentient species past, future and present, the Netherworld has no being. Demons have no fixed physical form and barring several extremely powerful individuals no unique persona or intelligence. Nothing that is material survives when plunging into the Netherworld.

I already guaranteed that my human body and soul would not survive the trip, for it will surely merge with my demonic half. I cannot guarantee also that I will not end up as something worse if I survived the chase of the Witch’s soul silver.

I bid farewell to my companions and ordered myself pushed into the pillar of light.

Pain, elation, lust, sorrow, joy, rage and other feelings that words fail to describe overwhelmed me as my body tore away as I entered the raging tide of demonic energies that is the Demon’s Gate. Nothing of the material plane lasts for long here and I did not even feel it as my body was warped and absorbed into the immaterial reality of the Gate. I grasped with my mind’s hands towards the familiar and vile presence of the Swamp Witch and Werbellia in the distance, the curse placed upon me acting as a tether and anchor allowing me to catch up. I clung onto them with a death grip as our minds surged through untold trillions of voices and presences that made up the chaotic space.

Tumbling through this primordial soup of emotion, thoughts, possibilities and base desire writ large, I felt the Witch gain direction and hurtle to an unknown direction, pulling me along for the ride. A riot of colours assaulted my senses and I felt and tasted joy and disgust, smelt hatred and saw concept as music before it all popped like a bubble and the deluge of sensation ceased.

I found myself floating near the roof of a bedroom and I looked down where a black haired woman, tall and lanky, was in labour surrounded by healers, nurses and machines that I failed to recognise. There was a tall, thin man with balding hair holding onto the left hand of the woman giving birth and he spoke a language that sounded like a mix between Trade and Dwarvish. He reminded me of the many clerks and scholars who labour intensely in the many libraries, archives and offices of the Castle in Gainos. Practical folk who seek to provide for their families regardless of the circumstances. I felt a sense of respect and gratitude for him and those like him.

The Witch’s soul manifested itself as a small maroon fireball, much as it was back in the swamp before she fully merged with Werbellia. The natives of this world remained oblivious to our presence. If anyone of them living in this world were attuned to the presence of immaterial beings like spirits and demons, they were not in this room.

The woman giving birth was unremarkable, pleasant but under normal times doomed to a painfully ordinary life. The child being born however, lit up like a beacon to my spiritual senses. There was something like us inside of the child, dormant yet powerful. Regal and commanding.

Like a ruler, a queen. Like me.

Excitement seized me and I felt the Witch-me- race towards mother and daughter to snuff out what the child was hosting and claim her as our own.

/////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

The impact of the Swamp Witch and myself plunging into her overwhelmed the woman who was halfway in birthing the baby. I felt the woman’s body give up and die as I moved to take over the vessel and simultaneously maintain my grip and connection to the Witch, who was attempting to sever my hold on her and subsume the object that had drawn us from the Demon’s Gate. The Swamp Witch’s struggle against me was vicious and unyielding, but I detected none of the intelligence, merely animal cunning or the reactions of a new-born in her battle with me. I then knew that the Swamp Witch and Werbellia were effectively dead and this soul fragment while containing their powers and essence was more of a child borne of them rather than the Swamp Witch or Werbellia.

A demonic soul borne of a world ending undead creating monster and a demon princess as it’s two mommies. The Demon’s Gate has all kinds of surprises.

I never met Werbellia or knew anyone who had known her on an intimate level. Yet if she was anything like myself when my demon half gains control over me, then she was in many ways as bad as the Swamp Witch, only replacing the cold disdain for all life with the boiling contempt for anything beneath her own august being, which is everything. Through my link with this new spirit, I saw the parasite which had infected the baby get overwhelmed and absorbed by the Witch’s soul. I pressed home the advantage and moved to subdue the soul fragment and seize control of the baby’s body as well when I was felt my spirit get jolted by a painful spasm.

The mortal woman was fighting back! I felt my knowledge of all that’s possible get turned upside down. Humans were not supposed to be able to maintain a coherent identity after they had died, for their souls were too weak and young to possibly survive as a unique being. Only the mightiest of Demons and Angels were a person to themselves and yet now a mortal woman of little remarkability was fighting the souls of two demonic royalty, one world ending entity and a parasite of unknown origin and she was winning! I drew upon my experience in war and instinctively sought a possible avenue of retreat by exploring the baby’s body and got another surprise. The parasite had in the last moments before being consumed had preserved the child. Though she appears dead to the world, there was enough of her left behind that if I revived the child, she would still be the person she would have grown into rather than a puppet of flesh and bone to be used by me.

It was time to try diplomacy. I only hoped that the mortal woman could still understand me.

“Listen to me. You are already dead when the Swamp Witch chose your child as her new vessel as she was attracted by some parasite that had chosen her. She attempted to take over your baby through you and you’re already dead. Your child will also be dead soon as well.”

Another wave of pain enveloped me as I felt rage and sorrow from the mother. I held my ground and did not retaliate as I pressed her case knowing she understood me at least.

“I can help your baby and bring her back. But to do that, I cannot have you interfering while I do so. Even if you drive me off or kill me. You’d still die and your child will die with you. Trust me on this, and I will bring your daughter back and vanquish the Swamp Witch.”

I demonstrated my goodwill by opening a link to the woman’s spirit into my memories to convince her of the truth of my words. A moment of hesitation before I felt her contact me and I marvelled at how puny one single human soul felt to me. Comparing the mortal soul to the likes of the Swamp Witch, myself or that alien parasite was comparing a flea to a dragon, but there it was.

The flea that brought a dragon low.

The struggling of the mortal host ceased even as I felt her lingering in the back of my head, unwilling to abandon her husband and child. I gently embraced her to assure her and felt her join me in spirit before I turned my full attention to the Witch. I pressed against the Witch soul, reducing and absorbing it again and again until there was but a single spark left of that fireball. I spoke words of power and binding, placing shackle, bind and chain upon the remaining spark that still held immense potential and power. I felt the curse engraved on my soul call out to the spark, recognising its own self before I quashed the rebellious spirit, Extending my powers into the cooling bodies of both the mother and child, I found the soul of the child ensconced away, shielded by bits of the parasite that defended its host from the Witch. I gently drew her out of the shell she had hid in and saw the bound spark of the Witch enmesh itself with the mortal soul. Content that life will once again return to the body of her/ my/ our child soon, I focused on reanimating the adult host body I was in.

I felt trapped and elated as I saw the world once again through eyes of flesh. Though the feeling of unrestricted freedom made me yearn for the spirit, I also revelled in the pleasures of sensation that mere spirit cannot provide. Every sensation of the needles, plastic and even the pain from the exertion of childbirth and fatigue of recent death felt incomparably vivid to the dulled feelings of spirit. I turned my gaze upon the healers- doctors- and nurses who were gaping at me in shock, even back on the Continent, people did not just rise from the dead so I cannot really blame them even as I judged and found them unworthy. I knew that this disdain and contempt for those who are understandably was left from Werbellia and the Swamp Witch and decided to focus on something that I yearned for.

A tall, thin man who looked on me with concern, affection and nervousness. Danny Hebert, the host Annette’s husband- My husband. Danny’s not a hideous troll by any stretch of the imagination, but he’s not the Adonis that I would have chosen to warm my beds back in the Continent either.

Still, he was a good and caring man and I felt great affection and gentleness for him thanks to Annette’s memories. I gave him a warm smile and he returned with a gentle but unyielding hug before the doctors took him aside while they inspected me. Fatigue both physical and mental soon caught up to me and I allowed myself to bask In the feeling of security that my husband provided as I drifted into blissful sleep.


	5. Arc 1.3 Possession Anne(lo)tte (a)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anne adjusts to life on Earth Bet

The Witch Crown

A Worm/ Queen’s Blade Crossover.

Arc 1.3 Possession Anne(lo)tte (a)

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Annelotte Kreutz

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My eyes flickered open as they wandered around the scenery. The walls were whitewashed with the monotony broken by posters of babies and young mothers frolicking in several pleasant and green environments that were barely visible in the dimmed lights. A plain light green curtain had been pulled to give my bed some privacy in what I suspected was a shared maternity ward. Silence reigned occasionally broken by the beeping of my heart monitor. To my left was my-Annette’s- husband Danny seated in a plastic chair, his head nodding as he slept.

Danny. The unassuming man aroused very conflicting feelings inside me. I felt the host’s affection and love for him and his presence gave me the comfort and security of a warm blanket on a cold winter’s night. On the other hand, the good Hebert was not the type of man I’d have given more than a glance if I had passed him on the streets of Gainos. From what my host’s memories told me of the man, he’s a responsible leader of men. Caring, stubbornly sticking to what he feel’s is correct and yet emotionally stunted when facing delicate situations. I’d have him put to work in the palace archives or the logistics groundwork for the army post haste, with subtle oversight to prevent his bullhead temperament from burning bridges that he’d need to ensure a smooth working environment.

Being Mrs Hebert though? Out of the question. Although I could seek him out as a source of comfort or security temporarily I suppose.

Just for now anyways.

Looking at the host’s mate led me down to where Annette’s memories of her being…intimate with her husband and I blanched at the images and quickly shut that train of thought down. I am no shy virgin maiden, but he was just not my type! The host body I was squatting in disagreed and I found myself reaching out to Danny. The thin man must have been a light sleeper, because just a light touch on his arms roused him out of slumber as he gave me a groggy smile. Purging memories of Annette seeing that very expression in the mornings after on their matrimonial bed and the associated thoughts that followed, I gave him my practiced smile.

“Mornin’ Danny. “ I murmured in a tone that was too husky for my liking. Danny smirked knowingly and helped to lay me back on the bed and covered me with a blanket. Despite myself, I felt myself blushing hard at this tender gesture.

Annette Hebert. Were you not already dead, I’d kill you for embarrassing me like this. I felt a wave of nausea and began to heave. Danny, bless him, quickly grabbed a paper bag for me and I released into it. As my husband rubbed my back comfortingly, I felt relieved by his presence while worrying that I was allowing myself to be lost in the identity of the host I’m inhabiting.

And I’ve just thought of him as my husband. Wonderful Annelotte Kreutz. You’re being assimilated by a native’s personality.

The upside of me losing the contents of my stomach was that it successfully quelled the amorous feelings I felt. I gratefully downed a cup of water that Danny poured for me before giving an exaggerated yawn and making a show of closing my eyes while muttering good night to him.

Sans overreacting hormones and the unsettling thoughts of a man who was a stranger only hours before, I reached out via the mental link to the mortal child that was playing host to the contained spark of the Swamp Witch.

Well, this is a worrying sight. That spark of the Swamp Witch which I’ve reduced and bound with layers upon layers of every mystical bind I was taught by the paladins was burning far brighter than it was supposed to after only a few hours. It was still not bursting against the prison I’ve crafted for it, but it was something that I needed to attend to immediately.

Languidly as to not alarm Danny, A few minutes passed before the curtain around the bed was pulled back revealing a nurse in a brown jacket over light blue scrubs. I did not need to be an empath to read the exhaustion clearly written on her face in a frown. I eyed her name tag which read Jessie and flashed my winning smile at her which got me a half smile in return. Nursing in this world must be as thankless as it was back home if such a small gesture is so appreciated.

“Mrs Hebert. Glad to see you’re awake. While the doctors didn’t find anything of immediate concern after your resu…scitation, “The nurse bit down the word resurrection mid-sentence to prevent looking unprofessional. Count me impressed. ”It’d be a good idea to have the doctor on duty to have a look at you. Let me get him so we can get this done with and you can get back to your rest.”

“Thanks, Jessie.” I put as much cheer and gratitude I can muster in my commendation. Her face further softened as I continued. Nursing must be a really shitty job if she’s reacting like this. “While you get the doctor, can you also get my baby as well? I’d really like to see her.”

“Sure, Mrs H. Lemme go push your baby’s incubator in.” As the nurse flashed a bright smile and half skipped out with a spring in her steps, I spied Danny looking at me with barely concealed amusement.

“Anne, I always knew that you’re better than me when it comes to dealing with people, but damn that was smooth. “ I shrugged and smirked at the praise and amazement offered by my host’s husband. The help, or service staff as they’re known here, are always more appreciative of basic human decency when shown. Unless the source of it is from Yuit, or Saiyang, or Luna-Luna or almost anyone I know off. Strange how people whom aren’t outright hostile to us didn’t seem to react as strongly to gestures of small kindness from the rest of my friends than they would from me.

Something to think about I suppose. I guess there was a reason Yuit called me a heartbreaker before she left Kreutz Castle all those years ago.

The sound of wheels rolling broke me out of my thoughts and I turned my attention towards the incubator being pushed towards my bed. I looked through the glass at the newly formed human inside. The hair was non-existent, the skin was a ruddy pink and had a complexion that reminded me of an overripe peach crossed with a prune. The limbs and the general shape of the new-born reminded me of an egg with four stubby limbs poking to the side and a small oval on top of the egg.

It was also the most beautiful thing I’ve ever gazed upon in my life. I felt hot tears blurring my vision as I placed my hands on the glass of the incubator and I felt my breath caught in my chest from the pride, happiness, grief and worry that swelled within. Pride and happiness that I have begat this wonderful daughter of mine. Grief and worry on what I might eventually have to do to her in order to save the lives of all the living in two worlds. Danny dabbed away the tears with some tissues and rested his other hand on the small of my back. Nurse Jessie, bless her, wordlessly opened the incubator and allowed me to scoop my daughter out.

Taylor. The memories of the host that spoke of months and years of discussion and thought rushed my mind informed me with great joy of the name of my (host’s) daughter. I brushed her scalp with my right hand while my beaming face masked a deep anxiety at the threat nursing inside the baby. Each brush helped me to get a closer look at the binds on the Witch’s presence. Three brushes, the first for Taylor, the second for the bounds and the third for the Witch. Satisfied that the spark was contained sufficiently, I handed off my child to the eager arms of my spouse.

The sound of someone clearing the throat to get my attention caused me to focus on the source. A heavy set man with sandy hair and a bushy moustache stood in a wide stance, holding a clipboard in one hand and wearing a blue jacket that spotted an emblem of a winged kite shield with the letters PRT written on it. His slightly wrinkled face was tight and alert, but it was the overwrought attention that’s due to heavy use of caffeine rather than sufficient rest. He was barely able to hide the irritation that was bubbling to the surface as the man fixed me with an enquiring look.

Parahuman Response Team. The locals’ response to the presence of Parahumans who exhibited abilities that separated them from the conventional humans that made the bulk of this world’s population. But that a man was actually actively engaged in potentially dangerous field work left me dumbfounded, the culture shock I still felt despite the host’s knowledge that the ratio between the sexes aren’t quite as skewed due to a potential world ending monster’s sore loser gambit killing off half of the world’s population aged twelve and below.

“Forgive me, officer.” I leant backwards to my raised bed as I tried to keep my unease under wraps.” It’s just that I wasn’t expecting a strange gentleman to be approaching me quite so soon after I woke up.”

A flash of irritation crossed the wizened mien of the agent before it resumed the practiced professional politeness expected of any public servant. The PRT agent shrugged and set his pen back into his breast pocket as he said in a practiced tone what sounds like a rote memorized line for difficult subjects.

“Not an issue, Mrs Hebert. I apologise for disturbing you so early in the morning. I can arrange a female agent at a more appropriate…”

“Wait, I’m sorry.” I cut into the PR line that he was reciting from memory as I gathered my wits and decided to seize the initiative. “It’s just that so soon after giving birth and surviving a traumatic experience, the presence of men I’m not familiar with is quite taxing.” I gave a placating sheepish half smile and offered my hands to shake. “We got off the wrong start, sir. I’m Annette Hebert. May I have your name please? This time, the rattled look was visible to everyone in the ward.”

“Not at all, Mrs Hebert.” The PRT man regained his previous composure and professional demeanour at my sudden change in attitude. “My name is Agent Biggs and I am here to ask a few questions regarding your reported death and subsequent revival without the use of any effective methods of resuscitating a newly deceased person. With your permission of course. There is no compulsion and this is, I stress a mere formality for any medical issues that are slightly out of the ordinary.”

“No problems with me, Mr Biggs,” My demeanour grew relax and confident as I settled into a familiar role, armed with the host’s memories of the situation in this world. “ Please ask away.”

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The week I’ve spent In Brockton University Hospital allowed me time to acclimatize myself to this strange new world I’ve found myself in. It was just as well that post pregnancy women tend to exhibit atypical behaviour as I gradually digested the memories and knowledge of Annette. The first thing that struck me was the incredible amount of males of all ages going about their lives in professions that would be outright prohibited to their sex and the sheer number of them appearing on their media and everywhere else. I’ve met offworlders back in the Continent who regaled me with their stories of men walking their streets unescorted without fear of gangs of kidnappers targeting them for sale as novel breeding stock in places where the sex ratio was even worse than the places the men were kidnapped from. Even back in the Kreutz March which had the most number of men versus women due to our ancestors missing the final battle in the First Swamp Witch Hunt thirteen decades ago, intermarriage with the other realms had caused the number of men to drop drastically. It took me days before I stopped openly gawking at the number of males in any given place.

The second thing which I noticed was just how fragile I am. It was the stark contrast between my old body and the new that drove home the difference between humans (and half demons) born of the Conception Ceremony and Cyan’s Mother’s Spring potion and those whom were born naturally. Even as a child who was stricken with plague induced high fever, I’ve never felt as vulnerable and feeble as I am now. I had initially dismissed the weakness I’ve felt assuming the body was due to the rigours of childbirth and dying, but as I assimilated the muscle memory of the host, it became apparent that weakness was not an assumed flaw, but was a feature of the previous owner. I resolved to fix it slowly but surely to avoid unwanted attention while working to my as yet undefined goal.

The last thing which bothered me were the parasite the Swamp Witch and myself had subdued and absorbed and those Parahumans. Capes, powered people, freak shows, whatever you wanted to call them they had become an essential part of life on Earth Bet and by extension, mine. That parasite which was divided and consumed between the Witch and myself was like a queen ant, and if there’s a queen ant around, you’d find a hive, soldiers and workers along with other hives. Was the parasite meant to contact others like its kind if it had awakened? Was there any link between the parasite and these capes? How many parasites were there?

I decided to file the concern on parahumans and the parasite-soul hybrid on the not so eager to do list. So long as the soul spark was contained and separated, it’d do little real harm.

“Anne, we’re home.” I heard Danny rouse me from my thoughts and I felt his arm wrap protectively around my shoulder while unlocking the car door. I left the car after sleepily shrugging off his arm and had a clear look at the Hebert residence, my eyes unhindered by the bias and nostalgia for home which clouded my host’s vision.

I let lose a soft grunt of disapproval at the sight of the house. Despite the freshly painted façade and the respectable house, this neighbourhood was a dump. A pall of quiet desperation hung over the place, accented by the unkempt lawns, rotting wood on the utility poles and the bone shaker cars that most of the neighbours drove. A couple of the houses were empty, the For Sale signs showing visible signs of being battered by the changing seasons. I had lived in worst conditions when I was a fugitive dodging both the Storm Queen’s Army and the Assassins of the Fang, sometimes living in literal sewers, but the sense of suppressed hopelessness wasn’t ever-present as it was here.

It will have to do, I told myself suppressing bad memories as I followed Danny inside our home carrying my baby.

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The basement of my new home was a perfect spot for my atelier which I planned to construct based on my own arcane knowledge as well the instinctive knowledge gleaned from my absorbing part of the Swamp Witch. An unused mineshaft allowed me easy access to the ambient energies of the earth despite the distance from the nearest leyline. It also formed a natural location should I decide to construct a miniature Queen’s Gate. Danny’s paternity leave was running out, so as soon as he went back to work at the Union, I watched him go with a smile and made sure he had driven beyond the horizon before I moved underground, bringing Taylor with me.

Holding Taylor so close to me was unsettling considering my current vulnerability and the danger posed by the spark that resides in my baby. Steeling myself, I turned on the lights upon entering the room and looked in satisfaction at the solid brick walls of the basement and the boarded mineshaft. The room itself was empty barring a few cardboard boxes filled with miscellaneous household items and clothes too old for use as I walked around the room, my left hand holding onto Taylor while I ran my free hand over the walls as I strolled in circles while chanting my aria to focus my power.

Despite the arcane knowledge I’ve gleaned from Swamp Witch thanks to piece of her inside me and what I’ve been taught. I am not a Mage and will never reach the pinnacles of sorcery like someone who’s dedicated to it. If I am creating my atelier, my own space forged by my being and a reflection of me, then it must be something that’s forged by a piece of myself. I ignored the second hand knowledge obtained from others and finished my aria and began to feel.

Thus I Spoke.

“I am Annelotte Armina Alphonse von Kreutz.” I felt my voice reverberate in the soon to be atelier, a thundering and imperious cry as befit my station and being.

“In Our name, I invoke the Title.”

Je Suis Chevalier Reine.

A brilliant wave of light flooded the chamber, bathing it in royal purple tinged with gold and sky blue. The royal colours with the colours of my heraldry to mark my space and kingdom. A surge of confidence and pride in my creation surged in me, threatening to pour from my chest. I indulged, no luxuriated in the feeling of rightness that covered me as I let lose a sigh of pleasure. It felt like I was back in my own skin again. I took a moment to savour this before I resumed my work.

I Spoke the Gates of Iron and Floors of Bronze. The bricks, doors and wood of the atelier thus imbued with the strength making them unbreakable, worthy to serve as a castle of the Queen of the world.

I Spoke the Royal Mystery and made this space impenetrable to scrying and spying. None beyond this room will listen to the whispers and words spoken here in confidence. No one will pry and look into the secrets of the Queen. Those who attempt will find themselves looking elsewhere and misguided to anywhere but here. The Inner will forever be hidden in the Veil from the Outer.

I Spoke of the Royal Presence and the Immaterial Throne. From a simple room of brick and wood, I saw the atelier transmute into a circular hall of immeasurable vastness and I was standing in the middle of it. In the distance I saw a red carpet with silver and white embroidery stretch from an arched gate to where I was standing.

The walls gleamed of white polished marble and the roof dazzled with the innumerable precious stones of diamond, ruby, sapphire and more expertly cut and placed on it to form the shape of a swirling galaxy. Behind me where the red carpet ended stood the Jade Throne. A mound formed of purple crystal rose up to six feet above the ground and a staircase was carved out leading to a seat carved out of a piece of white jade. On the left of the throne a winged angel in battle gear wielding a sword and shield was carved beneath the arm rest while on the right, a horned leering devil wielding a pitchfork was engraved. The seat in between is carved at a perfect ninety degrees and was without flaw in the surface. Laid on the chair was the crown. A wide brimmed circle headdress with a diamond the size of a goose egg was emplaced on the top with four feathered wings shaped from iron extending from the back of the rock. The headdress itself was shaped from orichalcon, an unbreakable metal that shone with the colours of the rainbow. Strings of the pearls draped over the brims of the crown forming a veil.

This was an exact replica of the Throne Room of Gainos Castle. Space inside my atelier has now been altered to suit me as the material world is now displaced with the immaterial much like inside the Demons Gate. I felt a piece of me depart as I Spoke the Royal Presence into being, but it was worth it to make this place truly my own. Should someone somehow gain entry into this room without my permission or it’s a person I was not ready to reveal my secrets to, then all he’d see was a unassuming brick walled basement. Only those I allow or are my blood kin will see the Immaterial truth of this place.

Carrying Taylor in my arms, I ascended the steps to the Jade Throne and looked at the crown resting on it. It felt wrong to wear that crown with one hand, so if I were to wear it, I’d have to put Taylor down.

A moment’s thought, and I grabbed the crown with my left hand and placed it on the arm rest before seating down cradling Taylor in my arms. Now comes the dangerous part.

I held Taylor close to me as I placed my forehead against her and probed the prison in which I had locked the Witch. A jolt of excitement shot through me as the Swamp Witch’s essence still within me was aroused at the presence of the entrapped pieces of itself and I felt the foul smell of decay envelop the hall as I heard the sounds of popping in the distance. The world began spinning as a wave of nausea welled up and I felt my muscles aching as if I had did a forced march from one end of Brockton Bay to the other. I hastily broke the connection and began to strengthen the wards placed on the Witch spark, pouring more of my power into it. In just a week, the spark had grown strong enough to eat into the prison and had just released the Blight onto the world upon coming into contact with the parts of the Witch within me. I plugged the leak from which the Swamp Witch was able to exert her influence and placed Taylor on the seat.

I smiled as my child gurgled in delight at the wondrous sight of the gem galaxy before I hurried out of the atelier to see the effects of that little bit of the Blight. I was instantly transported from the feet of the throne to the gate of the atelier once both my feet touched the carpet and I felt my heart leap to my throat in panic as I surveyed the damage Taylor’s little exercise had wrought. Trees previously brimming with life reduced to dried wrinkled husks of deadwood littered with the corpses of birds and insects. Several fruit bearing trees had pieces of rotting fruit which had aged instantly and exploded due to the Blight.

I walked down the street in both directions and found the desolation extended to ten houses down the street. I held my breath at the sight and the smell of decaying plant life and animals because it was now clear that a mere moment’s exposure of the Blight had did this. I could still smell the faint whiff of the foulness of the Swamp lingering as it drifted away in the breeze. Several of the occupied houses went out of their houses to investigate the sudden death of the local ecosystem and I started looking around, bewildered. I made sure to speak with the Fergusons to the right and ask if they’re aware what had happened. People are less likely to be suspicious of a panicking new mother asking her neighbours what happened after all.

I then resolved to ensure that Taylor will-had- be strong enough to master the growing presence within her and not become the next Swamp Witch.

For I do not relish the prospect of filicide.

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The nights that followed Taylor’s manifestation of the Blight was…tiring. The PRT poking their noses in the neighbourhood aside, I’d had to move mundane stuff into the atelier to convert it into a nursery proper. While I had specifically made Danny one of the people who would not be rejected by the protections in place, I had to ensure I knew he was there so the illusion of normalcy was not broken while he was still inside it. What followed was nights of me waiting till Danny was asleep before I would spend hours before sunrise slowly and painfully integrate the Witch’s spark into Taylor.

The process would involve my own soul and hers engaging in an exchange that’s similar to a two way blood transfusion. Part of my powers and essence would enter Taylor to sustain her, while I would remove part of the Witch’s remains and carefully graft, though the word doesn’t begin to do justice to the complexity of the surgery, onto the Taylor’s own human soul and then retaking some of the now diminished life force. At the same time, I was also subtly adjusting my human body to compensate for the stress the procedure placed on it.

For three months continuously, I spent eighteen hours performing three complex processes at once and it taxed my knowledge and finesse to a degree while the strain wore onto my body. Add the more mundane chores of changing and feeding my child, the reason that I did not keel over dead from exhaustion was due to the adjustments made on my human body to be more similar to the old half demon body I had back on the continent. The fact that my looks also grew far more attractive was a side effect, but it was a welcome one. The slow but noticeable improvements helped distract Danny from the fact his wife Annette was performing magical surgery on their daughter.

Or that I don’t behave like Annette that much, especially when I slipped into Continental unknowingly. Fortunately, Continental was close enough to French on Earth Bet and he spoke so little to none of it that he never caught on the difference a native or fluent speaker would.

On the ninetieth day, I finally grafted the last sinew-again barely a word that describes in justice but it’d have to do and I heaved a sigh of relief as a great weight was relived from me. I once again placed my hand on Taylor’s forehead and with practiced ease ran my power through her. Relief washed over me as a cool breeze as I noted not a single piece was out of place. Taylor now had a body that was fully shaped and modified to accommodate the rigours of a demonic physiology and powers befitting a Netherworld royal who also possess the powers of a world ending monster. Though I suppose most observers can’t tell any difference between the two.

She will grow much faster than a human, her senses and reflexes far sharper. Her mind so much keener to accommodate the fine knowledge and finesse to wield the powers effectively. She will be far stronger, tougher and will be more beautiful. She will reach the peak of her adulthood, and there in perfection she will stay, never knowing sickness or death by age. Her presence will be compelling and her lesser peers will find it difficult to resist her demands. Her beauty and strength will captivate and demand their devotion and attention.

In a world of Scion and parahumans possibly triggering in the womb, it was a recipe for disaster. Either she will be treated as a new form of parahuman and be dragged into the crucible that was cape life before she is ready to be guided slowly into her proper destiny, or she will be outed as something completely different, resulting in many possible fates that made me shiver in pondering.

The only option left to me was one that dragged up many horrific memories of Sheldan Free City. I steeled my heart and Spoke of Dimmed Eyes, so that her eyes will deteriorate and eventually go blind had she not been modified. Instead, she will simply not be able to see colours and other things that are beyond the human eye’s visibility spectrum.

I Spoke of Feebleness, so she would not be throwing grown men like stuffed toys when she was barely out of her diapers.

I Spoke of Slow Wits, so she will not be thought of as a prodigy in a world where unusual talents are thought of as a parahuman ability.

To save my daughter, I had to curse her out of fear for her future where others will bless their young in love and hope.

The fires of Sheldan burn brightly in my eyes while the screams of the dead ring clearly in my ears. I froze in shame at the memories.


	6. The Witch Crown Side Story: Incident at Sheldan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A look at one of Annelotte's darkest moments during the War of Thunder.

A Worm/ Queen’s Blade Crossover.

 

A/N I’m surprised no one actually asked what happened at Sheldan Free City before.

I nursed my drink as I took in the sound of the port right outside the tavern that Yuit and I had booked for tonight. Here on the upper floor of the shop, I saw the evening’s dying orange sunlight peek through the gap of the Shai Fang style bamboo strip curtains, casting streaks of orange on the greasy wooden floor and table.

The single lamp on the table I shared with my confidant didn’t do much in illuminating the room, the flickering lights causing the shadows of the sparse furniture and both of us to dance on the walls. A perfect set up, considering what the Little Elf and I was discussing.

“Big Brother. Are you still hesitating on what you should do?” My elven friend shot me a quizzical look from across the table, the red wine in her glass reflecting my face and the lamp. Dressed in a simple blue blouse and brown skirt, Yuit looked like a simple bureaucrat after work, rather than a key figure in the rebellion against the queen.

I ran my finger over the rim of my own glass as I stared into my own drink. Doubt weighed on my mind as I pondered the gravity of what Yuit was proposing.

“Yuit. Are you absolutely sure we have the support of Risty’s group if we do this. The Doge has been supplying their forces defying the orders from Queen Claudette.”

My strategist dismissed my worry with a giggle followed by a smug smirk.

“As far as that redhead ape of a woman is concerned, the Doge is making mad bank and a killing over others killing each other. You should have seen how her bronzed face turned black with contempt when mentioning that merchant posing as a lord.”

Yuit downed the rest of her glass as her smirk turned into a predatory smile.

“To show us her support, she’s sending her right hand woman Tokiwa and a few hundred of her best Bellesoldats. They’ve contacted me and they’ve set up camp near the volcano overlooking the city. With Claudette busy putting down Menace in Amara, the Queen’s Army isn’t sending help any time soon.”

It was a perfect opportunity indeed. Taking Sheldan will give me a perfect base to build up strength and legitimacy, not to mention the taxes and population base. But I still find it distasteful.

“You’re worried that people will think badly of you turning on the Doge after she took you in as a guest and that the supporters of the Doge will be trouble.” Yuit correctly guessed my worries.

“Don’t worry on that part, Big Brother. I’ve already sent my girls into the populace spreading the news that the Doge is feeling the heat and is prepared to murder you before sending your head to Elena Vance.” Yuit huffed dismissively at my misgivings. “Helps that she was stupid enough to have her Fang Assassins roaming around the Doge’s mansion vicinity in full uniform in an attempt to intimidate.”

Her elfin features twisted in a frown, Yuit looked me in the eyes as she stated clinically, “It’s the last part of the plan that’s got you worried isn’t it. The part where we’d have to slay the entire clan of the Doge and the other seven merchant families supportive of her in Sheldan so they have no one left to rally around.”

I felt my body stiffen as the revolting nature of the scheme was once again thrown in my face. Yuit looked at me hesitantly before she offered one of her plans.

“I can have Vante put the children to sleep pain… “

I sent the table flying towards the stairs with a kick where it splintered as I leapt up from my seat, a wordless roar emerging from my throat. My strategist shrank back with a wince at the sight of my anger and raised her hands in surrender.

“Just a suggestion, Big Brother.” Said the petite elf sheepishly

“I will not have children gassed like so many rodents, Yuit!” I snarled out my objections as I felt my rage boil over. If nothing else, anger overcoming my guilt made it easier for me to carry out her plans.

No, not her plans. My plans. I am the leader of this army and the buck stops with me. I reached for Grim Venus hanging from my side and gripped the pommel tightly to release some of the pent up frustration I felt for a minute before I felt myself calmed enough. The smell of smoke and a growing heat caught my attention and I spied a fire growing from the wrecked table and wooden. A fitting start to the night.

I grabbed Yuit into a hug as I leapt over the bonfire and hurried down the steps. The innkeeper, a stocky brunette woman in a greasy apron wearing a scarf on her head tried to block me from leaving the shop, no doubt deducing I was responsible for the arson. I casually backhanded her away, my metal gauntlets causing gashing cuts on her face as she fell onto the floor. I looked at the quivering figure before me and the now empty tavern with as much disdain as I can muster for if I felt even the slightest bit of hesitation, I would be overcome with cold feet. I untied my purse filled with coin and threw it at the innkeeper who had enough presence of mind to catch it. I suppose it wasn’t the first time she dealt with rampaging Bellesoldats.

“There’s enough money inside the purse to buy you a dozen of this hovel you call a tavern. Sorry for the damage. I suggest finding somewhere safe to spend the night.” I strode out of the burning building onto a gathering crowd which parted when I drew Grim Venus from her sheath and let Yuit down.

“Yuit. Pass on my orders to the girls.” The elf’s face formed into a hard mask as she prepared to carry out her duty as my second in command.

“Bring the children of the Doge and her supporters to me. Alive and unharmed if possible.” I saw Yuit raise an eyebrow but she nodded her assent. I took a deep breath before I gave my next declaration.

“I will see to them myself. They deserve the dignity to meet the same fate as the Doge.”

//////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

Unlike in the movies, adults generally do not awake screaming from their nightmares, even if they’re shaken to the core. I woke up covered in sweat before I looked at the cot next to the bed. I gave a soft sigh of relief as I saw that Taylor was still sleeping safely and snug before turning away burning with shame and guilt.

I so wanted to hug her to assure myself she’s safe, but the blood on my hands won’t wash away. It never does.  



	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arc 1.3 Possession Annelotte (b)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would recommend referring to Arc1.1 Danny (b) for some of the scenes involving Annette. Readers who read my snip feel free to skip the first scene. Also for the purpose of this fic, though the Queen’s Blade Canon doesn’t exactly spell out the difference between magic, alchemy and purely physical abilities like Leina’s Dragon Tail I will be modifying the lore accordingly. Speech and Word are considered inherent magic that are unique to spirit beings like Demons and Angels or those who are bounded to one.

The Witch Crown

 

A Worm/ Queen’s Blade Crossover.  
Arc 1.3 Possession Annelotte (b)

/////////////////////

Annelotte Kreutz

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I felt the world spin as I was thrown onto the mat again, followed by a kick to my left ribs which was thankfully protected by a padded chest plate. The blow knocked the wind out of me but I made use of the slight momentum to slide across the sweat soaked mat, getting out of range of my opponent. My sparring partner slash tormentor settled into a relax stance, his arms resting by his sides as I struggled to find my footing. His long, pointed face and cropped brown hair glistened with sweat and sporting a satisfied smile, as he eyed me appraisingly, though whether it was lustfully or in regards to my coming back for more after the beatings he gave me I could not tell.

“James, Annette. Kindly take a water break for ten minutes. You two have been engaged in high intensity combat practice for twenty five minutes non-stop. Annette especially needs to rest.” I felt a tinge of annoyance at the baritone voice for the implied dig at my physical condition, but conceded with a sigh as I gladly took a water bottle from a gym instructor who was observing my training. I sat on the mat cross legged as the source of the command that ended my audition for human punching bag then walked over to me. His rugged and handsome features with a square jawline, oval green eyes and light black hair slicked back caught my eye almost from the time I laid my eyes on him at a fundraiser for Mayor Christner. Were the both of us not married and more importantly Annette’s instincts still not deeply embedded with me, I’d seduce him in a heartbeat. As it is, I limited it to some friendly flirting.

“Max, thank you for letting me use this place and also for introducing James to me.” The Medhall gym was usually reserved for patients undergoing physio therapy but Max had kindly cleared their schedules to accommodate my training sessions. During some small talk at the fundraiser, I had off-handily mentioned how difficult it was for me to get some actual self-defence classes that went beyond getting pepper spray and try not to attract the mugger’s attention while he robbed you. The others that went beyond that sparse curriculum was controlled by the ABB and were fronts for training gangers for the Asian crime syndicate. I had almost despaired by then of getting some proper training to bring my host body up to shape to prepare for Taylor’s own training when my new friend came to the rescue.

Max Anders helpfully suggested someone he knew who’d be of great help to my problems and introduced me to his employee James. Herr Filescher then introduced me to a world of pain as he put me through the wringer and also introduced me to two facts of life.

One, my body, even transmuted and toughened, was nowhere near what I’d require to handle Taylor when she grows into her powers in the coming years. She’s already two and half years old, and I don’t expect her body or powers to remain slowed too much by the limits I Spoke onto her. Despite the knowledge of fighting I have in my head, Annette’s body, reflexes, muscle memory and ingrained reluctance to inflict violence meant that even if I knew, saw and could theoretically block the coming blow, my vision and reaction fell very short.

Two- Racism on Earth Bet and Aleph by extension was weird. Even with the knowledge from Annette and my own life here, the concept of discriminating against fellow Humans based on skin colour mystified me. Class, religion, political allegiance I understood but when there’s actual other races that are different species or spirt beings, the idea puzzled me despite James dropping subtle and not so subtle hints on the superiority of the white race every time he’s not busy beating me into a fine paste.

The rugged man placed a friendly shoulder on my arm as he beamed with a charming smile. “Think nothing of it, Annette. You agreeing to model for our media campaign regarding our new hospital was more than sufficient payment. Why, just the mention that the talented Mrs Hebert was fronting our campaign got some of our other sponsors being more enthusiastic than they otherwise would be.” Max clapped his hands and one of the gym employees appeared bearing a suitcase. He allowed my eyes to linger on the case before he opened it, revealing a pair of foot long practice swords with ornately carved wooden pommels. I reached for the hilt and marvelled at the perfect finish and the linen grip on it.

“Shark skin grip.” I breathed in wonder at the rough texture of the cover on the wooden hilt. I gingerly took one of the blades and found the weight distribution to be perfect and marvelled at the work on the blade. It was dulled for sure as I ran my finger on the edge and tip of the metal, but the work was so fine that it appeared as menacing as a real short sword perfect for war. Even in the artificial lights of the gym, the metal of the sword gleamed as if polished for a parade in the sun.

“I can’t take this, Max. This fine blades must be horribly expensive.” I said in a small voice as I handed the sword back to him. The Medhall boss shook his head while chuckling, and pressed the sword back to me as he gripped my hand.

“Consider this homemade knives as a gift for agreeing to our advertising campaign and also a sign of our friendship, Annette. I would be delighted if you would take them to cement our ties.” Max declared as he placed the blades back into the suitcase and handed them to me expectantly. I hesitated for a short while before I took the gift reverently, feeling gratitude at the generosity displayed. I felt a wave of nostalgia at the gifts, as it reminded me of the time when the Margrave Kreutz presented me with my own steel training blade to replace the wooden one I got as a child.

“Why blades, Max? Most suitors trying to woo me from Danny tend to go for jewellery and even cars.” I spoke with a teasing lilt even as I reminded the charming Mr Anders of my marital status.

“Because I feel that it’s only fitting that weapons to symbolise your determination to defend home and hearth much like the glorious shield maidens of old could possibly show my admiration for your martial spirit. Spirit that resembles our values once embodied by our ancestors now sadly lost.” The Medhall boss actually looked distressed as he mourned the perceived loss of heritage and values. Max then gave a sad smile before he took my right hand and kissed it. Despite the gesture actually being customary for greeting someone, the suaveness of the faux pas had me giggling in delight.

“Perhaps a dinner tonight, Annette. To further discuss the campaign and perhaps other future collaborations?” I could see the twinkling in his eyes as Max said that to me in his lovely smooth baritone.

Oh Max Anders, you charming cad! You manage to push all of my buttons and play them like a master pianist. Were I not bound by marital piety to Danny, Annette’s gagging reaction at you and my love for Taylor, I just might commit adultery. As it stands, I will have to shut you down.

“I’m so sorry, Max. But I’m all booked with family commitments for a while.” I saw a flash of annoyance in his green eyes before I sunk the knife in.

“Perhaps a lunch together sometime? You can bring Heith along and I will formally introduce Danny to you. I’m sure you will have so much to discuss.”

“Perhaps.” Max to his credit took my rejection with no visible signs of annoyance.

“James, help Annette to get used to the swords I have gifted her in the next round of practice.”

Okay, maybe he’s a tad annoyed.

////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

I spent more time training my body at Medhall, refining my powers and growing my Word and Speech by speaking and recording into my tape recorder as cover against eavesdropping in my atelier. I prepared for that day when Taylor’s powers will start to shake off the limits I had set on her and finally, I begged off from more sessions at Medhall after six months and twenty lessons, despite the excellence of both teachers and equipment there. Max had appeared distraught, almost, at my insistence on departing and to placate him I had promised to assist him on an upcoming series of fundraisers and media appearances. I did emphasize that I had to ensure that our relationship had to appear more professional, even if friendly. Problems which were obvious in hindsight was now brewing.

People were starting to speak in hushed tones of a tawdry affair between myself and Max, sometimes within earshot of Danny and myself when he actually could muster the fortitude to endure the high society meet and greets with people who’d look at him like used gum on their shoes when my head is turned.

No, correction. The rumours were always within earshot especially when my husband was around and they’d look at Danny like he was yesterday’s kitty litter with transparently brittle smiles to my face. Max Anders had done little to dispel the rumours on his part, seemingly enjoying the implied satisfaction of being rumoured to be bedding the hottest new piece of tail in the Bay.

Bastard.

But if Max had hurt me by omission, a move I could almost respect for his quickness to exploit the situation to boost his own standing as a ladies man, then Zoe Barnes, wife of Alan was actively trying to knife me socially. Apparently, she was sore over her husband’s not so former crush on me and how I’ve displaced her sweet deal on the endorsements, fund raising and amateur modelling business. I wasn’t sure if she was actively working in tandem with Max or she simply exploited the situation upon seeing an opening, but the one-two combo really damaged my reputation. Adultery really hurts one’s social capital in high society, especially when you’re the other woman. The sexual dynamics on Bet had thrown me for a loop as my own prejudices blinded me, despite all the similarities of noblesse oblige between the two worlds. Here, it’s not common for several ladies to share one male paramour if only out of numerical necessity and I had tripped over my own feet.

In my hour of need, it was Sarah Pelham who would come to my rescue. The motherly blonde had kept a close eye on me after my debut a year and half ago and she took the initiative to call on me at my home with family in tow after hearing of my troubles. A show of solidarity with me putting at risk her own reputation by being seen as associating with a rumoured homewrecker. Sarah would forcefully rubbish any claims of my infidelity with a laugh and would arrange for very public meals with both our families. The image of Danny, Taylor and myself having a good time with the Pelhams and their Dallon in-laws quickly discredited notions of trouble in my family.

“Call on me if you ever need anything. Anything at all. Should I be able to do it for you, I will.” I vowed to the Pelham matriarch, grasping her hand as I was walked their family to their car. I silently told myself I will also inform Taylor of this promise to the Pelhams when she reaches her age of majority.

That Max Anders would later start his own campaign of presenting the image of familial bliss with Heith also lent credence that we were both happy with our families and the rumours eventually died. He even took the initiative to make nice with me at a party hosted by the Brockton Chamber of Commerce and promised sponsored medical services should my family or myself were to require it.

“I will be sure to remember your generosity and offer Max. Thank you. “An ambiguous and public enough answer that left me options to take it up should the need arrive as I wasn’t in the habit of burning bridges, even if it’s with parties that have proven far too Machiavellian for my taste. I made sure the eyes in the hall were on me as I made my way towards the Pelhams and Danny who was standing with them. Despite their relative wealth and social standing which should have turned off Danny due to his experiences with the upper class, my husband had taken a shine to them.

I wasn’t sure if Max’s father Richard was the one who decided that his son being rumoured to be having a mistress of middle class origins was distasteful, but it helped me and I wasn’t about to dismiss luck when it’s in my favour.

Speaking of luck and choice of lovers.

Danny, oh how I love him, reaffirmed my own growing love for him that was independent of Annette’s influence. He had remained steadfast in his belief of my loyalty, clinging onto my own openness in informing him of my training at Medhall and showing him the practice blades that I was gifted. But for him to ignore the sneers and whispers of his wife cheating on him and still show the love and affection for me made me wish I had married him for real as Annelotte Kreutz instead of pretending to be Annette Hebert. I was ready to give up my powers and royal status if that was what it took.

As it was, my mission to ensure that Taylor doesn’t grow up into the next world ending horror takes precedence over my own feelings for the man and I cannot risk telling him the truth and jeopardizing the task.

I do not know how many times I have to repeat that before it stops sounding so hollow. Forgive my audacity in not asking for your forgiveness for the years of lies and the death of your wife, Daniel Hebert.

//////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

Taylor’s powers had manifested at a rather inconvenient time, but thankfully, it was one that I had suspected. I had stopped nursing her for years now but Taylor loved spending time in my lap while I read her stories in my atelier, though I suspect she enjoyed the view from the Jade Throne more than she does my company. This sessions allowed me to check on the conditions of her bindings and how well her adjusted body was taking to the Witch’s essence grafted onto her. I concluded my daughter was taking to it very well, since I felt her human soul gently meld with the foreign spirit. The operation was a great success despite my amateur efforts, though considering the strength of Annette Hebert nee Rose’s own fighting spirit I should not be surprised.

Be proud, Annette. Our daughter will grow into a towering symbol of strength with the courage that we left for her.

As we went to the park for our baby girl’s fourth birthday, I made sure to keep ahead of Danny, leaving him to carry the refreshments while Taylor raced ahead. I kept a hawk’s eye on her, for the night before I felt the last silvers of the Witch’s transplanted soul fully integrate with Taylor’s human one. My child Taylor Hebert is now the Swamp Witch incarnate. It is a new-born one, due to the binds and the parts of the Witch still inside me sustaining that curse that lay dormant. But it was still the Widowmaker herself that I identified as my baby girl. Taylor raced ahead towards the leaves that had been swept into neat piles near the pine trees and was happily playing with the acorns. I observed the scene carefully and was happy to note that the Blight had not broken out into the world. I joint my girl in play within the leaf pile, when I noticed a wisp of smoke snake around an acorn that Taylor grasped on her right hand that jutted out of the grass pile.

No, not smoke. Smoke didn’t twist around arms of little girls and have a human face of indecipherable gender and origin twisted into agony. Taylor giggled as she looked at the wraith that wrapped around her arm and acorn before she turned to look at me.

“Mama, look! Mr Smokey wants to say hello!” My daughter beamed brightly at me while and held out the wraith to me like she would a stray, proud of the display as if it was her first school project. I quickly reached for the apparition, but it reacted to Taylor’s burgeoning powers and my own and glowed before it exploded with a pop, causing the acorn and nearby litter to scatter in the explosion, sending dried pieces of leaf, acorn and pine tree needles at me. I grabbed Taylor to shield her from the explosion as the shrapnel from the improvised plant explosion gave me a grazing cut across my arm and showered me with assorted plant debris. The smell of freshly exploded wood was mixed with the smell of my blood as Danny dropped his picnic and rushed towards myself and Taylor.

As I deflected the questions of what happened, I spotted gathering smoky trails following the car towards the hospital, gliding lazily along the wind.

We would then spend hours in Brockton General, as the doctors and nursed probed of the origin of my injuries. Taylor sat on Danny’s lap as she stared in wonder at the gathering spirits which were attracted to the new mistress of death. They formed a white cloud that was invisible to the mundane and delighted Taylor who giggled as the mass of smoky spirits formed into a travelling parade of elephants, jugglers and clowns. One particularly adventurous wraith even transformed into the shape of a mini Alexandria and flew in circles around my daughter. Despite the macabre origins of the display, I smiled at Taylor’s joy while Danny tried to get our child to settle down.

“Mama! Look its Alexandria! Mr Smokey is turning into Alexandria!”

The young doctor dressed in blue scrubs raised an eyebrow at Taylor’s outburst and I stage whispered to him, shielding my mouth and leaning forward for effect. “Children like their imaginary friends.” My attending physician laughed lightly as he nodded in agreement.

“Children at that age can be quite a handful, can’t they Mrs Herbert. But you won’t trade them for anything.”

“It’s Hebert. And no, not for the world.”

Not for the throne, world or my life would I trade Taylor.

///////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

The next two years passed quickly as Taylor grew more adept at wraith manipulating. She would idly have them float languidly around her before she had them re-enact scenes from cartoons though the detail of the wraith formed Armsmaster was disconcerting as Taylor directed a fight scene in which Mouse Protector dispatched the local star cape in a relatively violent fashion involving an oversized mallet, a mouse trap and a stick of dynamite.

Taylor apparently didn’t like the armoured hero after he had interviewed me when we were about to leave the hospital during Taylor’s fourth birthday. Enough wraiths from both the hospital itself, which was already a large source of the poltergeists, and the surrounding areas had gathered and a fog had formed due to their dense presence. I was fortunate enough then that whatever Tinkertech devices Armsmaster had on him didn’t allow him to deduce the nature of the fog which had appeared suddenly on a clear June day. He would leave frustrated to pursue other sources since I was to him a local celebrity unlucky enough to get entangled in likely cape warfare, but his gruff manner would earn him Taylor’s ire.

The wraiths for their part were becoming more material, to the point where they can directly interact with physical objects and would soon be visible to the mortal eye. After Puppy and Kitty Smokey eviscerated the Hudson’s pet Doberman in a fight while they were out at school and work however, I had to restrict Taylor’s activities and told her she can only let her friends out to play in the atelier.

“Heroes have secret identities, Taylor. The den will be our secret base!” Letting Taylor think I was training her to be a parahuman hero helped deflect uncomfortable questions of her wraiths, my magic or the need to keep it secret from Danny. I would teach her the reality of her nature and my own, but for now like parents letting their children think that imaginary friends are real, this fiction is more palatable for her to swallow until I was sure she won’t be telling everyone she’s a reborn demonic world ending necromancer witch from another reality.

I drove Taylor out to the wilderness about three hours’ drive from Captain’s Hill. After setting up camp and removing the practice swords from storage, I unlocked the Word of Slow Wits, which had slowed down her learning to match those of mortal children. It also had a happy side effect of preventing her Witch powers from developing before she can be guided to properly control and use them. No such problems here miles from civilisation though. As I removed the binds, I saw the Blight come onto the world as the soil turned into a sticky muck, the plant life perished and the smaller animals like squirrels, nesting birds and insects keel over and die. The air turned foul and smelled like a mix between corpses left in the sun for days and wet dog.

“Eww, it stinks!” My daughter held her nose as the stench assaulted her sense of smell as a white, translucent cloud gathered around her. At the very least, her reaction to the Blight was human enough. One burden and worry removed from my list at least. I decided it was a good time to test out her control over the extent of the Blight.

“Taylor, can you make the smell go away?” Taylor looked at me thoughtfully as she considered how to remove the stench before she nodded and puffed her chest out in pride.

“Sure thing, Mama. Watch me!” I saw my girl close her eyes and scrunch up her face, getting steadily more frustrated as she started to stamp her feet before giving up with a yell. I walked over to the panting Taylor and bent down to her level as I looked her in the eye.

“Taylor. Try to Speak away the smell?”

“You want me to speak, Mama?” My precious looked at me quizzically.

“No Taylor, I want you to Speak. Words have power when you truly mean it.” I made sure she was able to hear the capitalization as I emphasized on the word speak. My instructions were hardly tutor material in the Church of Light’s Paladin training schools or even the average Mage’s teachings of her apprentice, but it will have to do. I do not doubt that the Swamp Witch will not be able to tap into her own instincts and powers. Taylor tapped her chin in thought, before she gave me a bright smile.

“Okay! Icky smell go away!” The vomit inducing stench became a bad memory as the more pleasant odour of jasmine and lilies soothed my offended sense of smell. I felt a surge of pride at the speed my child was learning, but I was also a tad annoyed as I recognised the pleasant scent.

Taylor Anne Hebert, I’m going to ground you till the beginning of the first elementary school year after this. How dare you break into my stash of personalised perfumes!

But first, her education.

“All right Taylor, why not start off with a round of Heroes and Villains.”

/////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

“So grounded.” I muttered angrily under my breath as I dodged another enfilade of two separate waves of explosive wraiths formed into arrowheads, my body twisting and weaving in mid-air to avoid one wave of spirit projectiles that aimed for my legs and another that aimed for my head. As I landed feet first into a crouching position, tree roots burst out from the muck to try and trip me while the waterlogged mud formed a mound around my legs to trap me. Taylor didn’t miss a beat as she sent another wave of powered wraiths at me, catching me right In the my left hip and sent me bowling over into the wet turf, The powered wraiths were not quite as dangerous as they’d seem despite them tearing through the trees I’ve used for cover. Those things hurt, but it was more like a particularly painful water balloon than something more dangerous. Either her powers were not too strong yet, or she is displaying a frightening level of control at only five years old. As I spat out wet mud from my mouth, I decided that finding out which was which can wait.

I’ve got a naughty girl to punish.

Taylor looked at me with her head cocked to the side, secure in the bubbling mud surrounding her that moved to block me when I got close, the twisting tree roots and branches that acted as her spear and shields and those stinging wisps of smoke made of wraiths that covered her sword and formed another layer of defence for her. The sides of her mouth crooked upwards as she let out one single sound.

“Heh.” That single, dismissive snort of laughter made my blood boil as it reminded me of Yuit when she’s convinced her Automata and alchemical creations finally perfected an attack or trick that would stop me when I got serious.

“You cheeky little brat. Get a few licks in and you think you’ve got your old lady beat huh?” My voice echoed with as I unleashed my demonic heritage onto this world and my skin turned deathly pale, my eyes turned wine red, my hair went pitch black and my ears formed into the shape of sharp knives. I admit that doing this wasn’t very healthy for my human body and also wasn’t very mature of me. But getting showed up by my six year old daughter stung. I was wreathed in an aura of black flame, causing the mud and roots around me to burn up and I charged towards Taylor. My daughter’s sense of danger must have ticked off, because she abandoned the makeshift fort she had constructed as I empowered my practice sword and thrust into the strongpoint, barely missing her by inches as my aura and weapon burned up or simply crushed with the kinetic force generated by my charge her attempts to stop me with branches, mud and explosive wraiths.

Taylor’s expression was one of gleeful bloodlust, one that I suspect mirrored my own. My demonic instincts howled with joy at the sense of danger and challenge and my heart beat with a tempo that threatened to tear through my chest. I saw my heir slide backwards in the mud before standing up, and without delay began to chant an aria that I did not recognise. More wraiths gathered around Taylor, their translucent form gaining shape and colour until the massed spirits resembled a white glowing whirlpool that formed into a spear. I saw the mud bubbling around her as they gathered into a large sphere and they hardened into thick dried mud. My battle lust sang in a way that it never did since I arrived at Earth Bet. More wraiths gathered around the growing wraith spear which now throbbed with a white light and they massed into smaller arrows of their own.

I see Taylor’s not about to go easy on her old lady. Well, I guess she resembles me a lot.

“Minions!” A tear formed in the fabric of Bet’s material plane as winged purple circle shaped creatures the size of a baseball with a mono eye and mouth full of teeth flew out from the fissure into the Demon’s Gate. The Minions were one of Aldra’s preferred methods of distracting enemies, attack and being floating meat shields if needed. And now I am borrowing them as I sent them to their dooms, swarming the gathering wraith arrows, their fragile bodies exploding along with their targets. I prepared myself as I called upon my real surprise for this lesson.

“Ambrosius! Come!” Another fissure into Demon’s Gate formed, and an aqua blue stallion with red eyes and burning blue mane galloped out and I leapt onto his back. I crouched down on horseback as I willed my demon fire into a lance, the fiery tip extending from the practice sword. I then charged forward, the tip of my fiery lance meeting the wraith spear. Both weapons blew up on impact, the ensuing shockwave tearing apart trees and tearing a gorge into the land but the momentum of my charge didn’t slow as the two hardened mud spheres my daughter threw at me shattered from the power of my charging Ambrosius. I closed in on the fort of mud, tree root and wraiths that Taylor used to shield herself and swung my blade through it, cleaving open the makeshift defence and sent her flying onto the ground. I galloped past the limp form of my heir as I let loose a cry of victory as I let my bloodlust die down and my mind began to recollect my actions.

I closed in on the fort of mud, tree root and wraiths that Taylor used to shield herself and swung my blade through it, cleaving open the makeshift defence and sent her flying onto the ground.

A cold fear grasped my heart as I realised what I’ve done. I leapt off my horse, threw my sword to the ground and dispelled my transformation as I ran towards the prone form of my child. I got about ten steps before I was enveloped in a rising tide of mud and was covered until only my nose and eyes were not in the grip of the rapidly drying and hardening soil. I fumed helplessly as I saw Taylor roll on the floor laughing with tears rolling down her cheeks before my companion since childhood Ambrosius went over and licked the girl’s face.

Et Tu Ambrosius? You’re all grounded!

////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

Amelia Claire Lavere looked upon her saviour with awe as she withdrew the brass chain from the bad men that tried to attack her. Those brass chains that enveloped the mysterious cape resembled the bone armour and spines that Daddy used before the bad people took him away. She wore a red bodysuit that was mostly covered in that spine looking brass chains and her face was also covered by the chains with her wine red eyes showing and beautiful light silver hair. Her right arm had a closed eye which the hero had opened to encase all the other bad men that attacked her in amber, before she used one of the chains on her body to pierce the shoulder of the man holding the knife pointing at her.

The eye opened again, there was a bright flash that made her eyes hurt and when she opened it the last bad man was also encased in amber like insects. The mysterious hero poked the amber with a red sword that had a nasty looking jagged edge on one side before she nodded in satisfaction and turned to look at her. The lady spoke to her in French and she shook her head to let her know she doesn’t speak it. Her red clad saviour cocked her head, before she asked again in lightly accented English.

“What is your name, little one? And do you know where the home of Annette Hebert is?” Amelia felt excitement as the strange lady mentioned the home of Mrs Hebert. Daddy had mentioned that she was a special woman. Maybe she can help her find Daddy or at least save her from that nasty lady who said she’s now her mom!

“I’m Amelia! I was going to the Hebert house!”

“I heard that Annette only had one child..” The lady was eyebrows arched as she folded her arms.

“Bad people took my daddy away. I heard Daddy said Mrs Hebert was a special person. I think she can help me!” Amelia’s face was downcast even as she hoped the strange hero will not send her back to the horrible people who took Daddy away.

The eyebrows of her saviour softened as she crouched to see Amelia face to face.

“Alright Amelia. Bring me to Annette and I will talk to my sister for her to help you.”

The lady withdrew the chains from her face, revealing a very pretty face and sharp ears.

“I heard from Alicia that people with powers here have a tradition of hiding their faces and having something called a cape name, but I think a little angel like you can be trusted. Others will know me as Gorgon, but you can call me Aldra.”

A/N: No Annelotte isn’t going to adopt Amy.


	8. Arc 1.4 Possession. The Heberts (a)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Daily life of the Heberts, also Taylor's POV in 2nd part.

Taylor’s POV will be after this part. I felt if I didn’t get this out, the story will die, so here it is.

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Annelotte Kreutz

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“Mom, there are several bad guys waiting down that route.” Taylor mentioned off handily as she peered into the crystal ball cradled in her hands.

I cursed lightly under my breath for keeping to a routine when going on these training trips. Brockton Bay wasn’t the safest place to be a famous anyone, much less a prominent socialite with connections to high society and possible ransom. Cleaning up bodies and dumping would be kidnappers are troublesome and can invite uncomfortable questions if I get sloppy during clean up. Captain’s Hill wasn’t that deserted after all.

In my defence, I am exhausted and in pain after several hours of physical combat training with Taylor. My girl hits hard when the restrictions on her are lifted.

“How many?” I asked as my eyes scanned the horizon for any approaching vehicles on the deserted road leading back into Brockton via Captain’s Hill.

My girl narrowed her eyes as she looked more closely at the foggy crystal ball. Curse my lack of talent for being unable to grasp the art of scrying,

“About twelve of them. One large man with long black curly hair is standing in the middle of the group. He’s wearing a black coat and a gold leaf plated carnival mask with a large beak.”

I took a deep breath to calm myself down. If things go badly, we could be the ones ending up dead in a ditch.

Marquis. I have Brockton’s most famous supervillain’s attention. I should be so flattered. Marquis may have a reputation of not harming children or women, but reputations are only as good as they’re useful to most people, meaning they’re expandable.

I should know, Yuit had proven time and again perceptions are easily changed with a good PR campaign and misdirection.

“Other routes?”

Taylor ran her fingers through the surface of the crystal ball, before shaking her head. Scrying is such a useful ability for making choices and planning, unless you only find out after all the options have long been closed except for the worst ones.

“Men there too. Some in costume.” My daughter said glumly. This leaves the option of trying to run the gauntlet of unpowered goons and unknown capes, or I can take the risk and meet Marquis, BB’s most prominent parahuman criminal.

I decided Taylor’s restrains can wait before they’re reinstated as I drove my rented SUV straight ahead.

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“Well met, Mrs Hebert.”

The booming bass travelled clear as day into my car as I exited my ride. Taylor immediately dashed out in front of me, brandishing both training swords as her body tensed for violence.

I felt pride at her bravery, and also annoyance. All those cartoons and comics are a bad influence if she thinks dual welding without specialised weapons or training is a good idea. I gripped her shoulders firmly, prompting my daughter to pout in annoyance but she complied as she fell back behind me. Taylor lowered her blades but kept them at her sides, drawn and ready.

“A fine display of martial bravery and discipline, particularly for one so young. But are our invisible friends so willing to listen and wait before commencing hostilities?”

I instinctively looked around for any signs of the wraiths or my Minions manifesting, before I realised his bluff. I allowed an annoyed scowl to show on my face. He got me good and there was no point hiding it.

“Was it yourself, Mrs Hebert or the young brave heart that so gallantly rushed to the defence of her mother?” The villain probed before he shook his head and held out his hand palms facing upward while he bowed.

“No, that was rude of me to ask. You have your reasons and I am not here for whatever powers you might have, but the person I so wish to see with my own eyes. If I may have the honour?”

I daintily placed my left hand with my new wedding band Danny had saved up for showing prominently, the diamond that didn’t exist on the older one shining brightly. Marquis gently kissed it before letting go and standing straight again.

“Well met indeed, good Marquis. Though I wonder why the lord of the underworld would have any interest in a mere social upstart who schemes to upset her betters. Surely Marquis has no interest in idle gossip.”

A hearty laugh as he brushed away my implied dig. Marquis reminded me of Count Vance before the death of Lady Maria at the hands of my sister embittered him and narrowed his vision. What Allfather tried at, Max Anders grasped at, Marquis exuded effortlessly.

Power, dread and most importantly, respect. This man is dangerous even without his powers.

“I can see why Max Anders was so smitten by you. What man aspiring to greatness will want to give up a companion of steel wrapped in the finest velvet? Richard was a fool to not encourage his son to continue going after you.”

“Surely someone like you would have faced women greater than myself?” My encounter with Max if nothing else had taught me caution on strange, roughish men.

Marquis placed his hand under his chin, as if deep in thought before sighing wearily.

“More powerful? Certainly. More than ready to present steel and violence, more than enough. But most of them are survivors, irreversibly scarred by their experiences and embittered that they are no longer able to conceive of something greater than the next headline, the next heist or surviving for another day. In baring too much steel to protect themselves, they forget the velvet that makes them beautiful. They have traded grace and matronly bearing for brute force and camp. A true tragedy.”

The villain’s eyes hardened as they bored into me, inquisitive and judging.

“What gives you such iron that you’d face down a notorious powered villain and a dozen henchmen with only a six year old girl and yourself, a lone woman? It is not mere powers,” Marquis spat out the word like a curse, “yet there is nothing from your background that would suggest your apparent tranquillity in a situation like this.”

I felt my defiance rose up. If this thug playing at nobility thinks he can scare me.

“Should I beg for mercy from mere bandits, Marquis? You will find I do not quail easily.” I injected as much ice as I can into my voice, intent on letting my potential assailant know who he faces.

Another hearty laugh, before Marquis threw up his right hand and his men formed two parade lines with a wide path in between for my SUV to drive through.

“I’m not one for high treason, Mrs Hebert,” my heart skipped at his interesting choice of words, “I am truly curious to view someone so regal in person in a town so shifty despite my best efforts.” Marquis bent down to meet my daughter face to face, who glared daggers at the stout villain. Taylor slapped off his hands with my approval as he attempted to pat her. The act of defiance prompted a light chuckle from Marquis.

“You will do well to listen to your mother, young Taylor. Even if you feel otherwise as you grow older.”

Taylor blew a raspberry, before she shuffled closer to me, arms still bared and ready.

“Farewell Mrs Hebert. I will be sure to remember the day I met the uncrowned queen of Brockton Bay.”

Marquis then silently joined his men in the parade line as I hurriedly went back into my vehicle.

I admit I felt a twinge of regret on learning his fate.

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The news broadcast is certainly fascinating viewing, but sometimes, I have to remind Taylor her mother isn’t one to lie slack jawed while viewing TV content that children really should not be viewing. I wrote down a message on my note pad and placed it in clear view next to me, aware that my daughter has Mr Smokey XII or maybe it’s XIV, the one with a bullet hole in the cheek hovering over me while the other wraiths tried to smuggle ice-cream into her room while Emma is here for the sleepover. At least this time, she waited till Emma was asleep before trying to sneak one past her old lady. I shifted a bit to the left, ensuring Taylor’s minion overlooking the sofa had a good look at the message.

No ice-cream after you’ve brushed your teeth. Also, leave some of the pistachio and caramel for me next time. Will make you clean room with tooth brush if I catch u again. Love Mother.

I heard the satisfying thud as the freezer door closed over the noise of the television and Danny’s snoring. I turned my attention to the news showing a cape fight captured on home video from a week ago titled “Unmasked cape catfight featuring Purity and new unmasked cape!” Lies of course, for even the Brockton News Channel doesn’t unmask capes.

I sniffed at the plain descriptive title that the local news had given to this latest cape fight. Lack of creativity in naming apparently is exclusive to the Continent.

On the other hand, the lack of creativity does evoke memories of Continental plainness and straightforwardness. A fitting one since the cape facing the rising star villain Purity at Lincoln Avenue was not a cape but a Bellesoldat. The beautiful soldier yelled out her frustrations in authentic Continental with a distinctive Gainosian accent that reminded me of the Court Mages back in Gainos Castle. I felt a surge of homesickness swell up as I heard the distinctive twang of my homeland and annoyance that the news didn’t attempt to translate it.

“What kind of world is this? The men fight as much or more than the women! Their warriors reject an honourable challenge and more than one lowlife has commented that my costume makes me look like some slattern!”

While parahuman costumes weren’t exactly conservative as a whole, barring Narwhal most capes wouldn’t show as much skin as the average Continental fighter. I’m sure Leina Vance’s dress code of gauntlets, a breast plate, greaves, one pair of underwear and many belts with nothing else would scandalise most parahumans with a moralistic bent on Earth Bet. The Bellesoldat own clothes of a half thigh long blue skirt with a white top with a red tie that shows a fair amount of cleavage, a matching blue mantle and striped black and white stockings were down right conservative

The red ribbon really accentuates her dusty brown hair and her blue eyes though.

“Time to die, Musketeer!” The glowing villain screeched out as she let fly with several blasts of blinding white light towards the Bellesoldat, who danced around the beams as she closed in on the Nazi cape at a rapid pace, her rapier brandished menacingly. Musketeer got within range and prepared to stab, when the white clad villain started to glow even brighter and a burst of white light and the sounds of the concrete sidewalk tearing up engulfed the footage. As the light cleared, the Bellesoldat was lying in a crumpled heap as Purity moved in for the kill before the unmoving body suddenly turned into a mass of black flame which surged towards the approaching Nazi and knocked the surprised cape off her feet while engulfing her in black fire.

As Purity rolled on the floor to put out the blaze, Musketeer walked into frame as she clicked her tongue in disappointment.

“Typical of you light magic users. All caught up in the glorious light while forgetting the brighter the illumination, the longer the shadows cast. One doppelganger and you bite without hesitation.” The Bellesoldat made sure to face the camera while making air quotes with her fingers to drive home her taunt. Musketeer arched her rapier before hesitating and withdrew her weapon.

“Forget it, you’re not staining Liddell over. Hopefully, Chancellor Yuit will let me keep my job in exchange for all the information I’ve obtained “Muttering under her breath, I saw an inky darkness engulf the swordswoman before she disappeared in a flash. As the news channel switched focus to some talking heads yammering over speculation of the bizarre behaviour of the new “cape”, I fell back onto the sofa while considering the new development.

There are Bellesoldats on Earth Bet. In a worst case scenario, I could soon find many of the beautiful soldiers packing a mean sword arm and a huge grudge over the Swamp Witch or myself coming after us through a functioning Queen’s Gate. Although my absconding to Bet is supposed to be a secret and officially I’m reclaiming the Swamp, I cannot discount either a regime change in my absence, or the secret leaking that I’m no longer on the Continent.

In the best case scenario, it’s only the Court Mages under my sworn sisters having figured out where I have chased the Swamp Witch to and would now be sending help in the form of someone capable of killing the Witch and completing my quest. Neither option is acceptable to me now. Once again I wished for my old body and Grim Venus back so that I can better protect my daughter.

I tried not to dwell on what I might have done if I had Grim Venus and my old body seven years ago. The thought of simply dispatching my family so readily had become unthinkable and made me physically ill to dwell on it.

A creaking on the wooden step that leading to our front door followed by a sharp rapping caught Danny’s attention as he roused from his slumber and moved to answer. He had been insistent that he will answer all calls at the front door ever since parahuman gang wars and crime in general got worse and he worried over my safety. I kept my eyes on the TV even as my hearing strained to catch what our late hour visitors might be saying. Just because Danny was answering the door doesn’t mean I cannot keep an ear out for potential assailants before him.

“Thank you sooo much, ma ange! I would have gotten so lost if not for your guiding me here.” The sound of the door opening and that familiar voice continued without missing a beat, “Ah! You must be Monsieur Hebert! Bonsoir! So sorry to call on your château so late, but is the lady Annette around?”

“Ms Aldra, you’re talking funny,” A small voice belonging to a young girl fumed at the over the top delivery of her fellow guest. So one adult female and a young girl with the elder guest being named….wait.

My sister is on my doorstep, and she’s playing up the stupid foreigner act to the hilt. Well, if she’s informed enough to know of my real identity, I suppose she has enough information on the situation on Earth Bet to avoid suspicion.

“Nothing quite as fancy as a chateau, miss. And you are…hey! What are you doing?” I turned around from the TV just in time to witness a buxom female with lavender hair dressed in a ruby red blouse and brown cargo pants grasp the arms of my husband and plant two loud, sloppy kisses on both cheeks in greeting. Wine red eyes twinkled with mischief before they fell on me, and the grin on that familiar face grew even wider. Some visible wrinkles formed around her eyes and the knife like ears were now rounded, but there was no doubt Aldra had just kissed my husband in front of me.

Way to go, Aldra. Kiss the beau of your long separated sister as a greeting. It will surely endear yourself to me.

“Anne! Give your soeur aînée a hug!” Aldra didn’t wait for my response before she lunged at me and pinned me down on the sofa and began nuzzling me. I managed to shove her off, prompting a bout of giggling from my sibling as I sat up cringing at her antics.

“Bonsoir to you too, Aldra. How are things back on the Continent?” My gaze fell onto her companion, a young Caucasian female with brown curly hair dressed in white pyjama, a pair of red sneakers and a bright yellow jacket while carrying a backpack. My eyes narrowed as I spotted two mallards with visible cuts on their necks, drained and plucked clean of feathers along with a large duffel bag resting near the door.

“Explain.”

“Oh, the ducks are a gift I was going to prepare for my beloved sis…”

“No, not the birds, though I appreciate you going through the trouble to provide the wild game.” I didn’t bother rubbing the bridge of my nose in anticipation of the oncoming migraine. “The girl. Why is there an obvious runaway tagging along with you?”

The runaway in question boldly stepped up to me, birds still in her hands. Her voice was clear and bright as day as she exclaimed, “I’m Amelia! Daddy told me you’re a special lady so I thought you’d be able to help me find him from where the bad people have taken him!”

So obviously a child who’s parent is either missing, dead or captured and is most likely with a foster family. Also likely enough to be someone whom I have left a deep impression on. I began going through the list of acquaintances who would bear a family resemblance to the young brunette and have recently passed on or are missing. Aldra protectively placed her hands on the shoulders of Amelia and pulled her close.

“She’s not too happy with her foster mother apparently. Said she’s a mean lady who might be responsible for taking her papa away.” The young girl nodded vigorously in assent at my sister’s assessment of the situation, but Aldra has always been very biased with children who maybe lacking familial affection. So the girl is apparently adopted by people who are linked to her father’s disappearance from her life and has a foster mother who’s not too kind to her. Now how many people who know me enough to fit into that little category? The gears began moving in my head as I went through those who fit before I sighed in defeat. The coincidence was getting ridiculous.

“I’m getting Sarah on the phone. She will help reign in Brandish’s excesses and prevent her from slicing you up for kidnapping her daughter.” I shot a pointed look at my sister and her runaway that she picked up from the street like a stray kitten even as the girl held tighter to Aldra. My sibling glared back at me with her wine red eyes bulging with maternal fury.

“I am not releasing Amelia back to whoever left her on the streets to be prey to some common criminals.” Aldra said testily as she wrapped her arms around the young girl. My sister hesitated before she added in Continental.

“I’m disappointed in you, Annelotte.”

I winced at the sheer despondence she added into that statement of familial distress. Aldra’s playing dirty right now but I cannot compromise the safety of Taylor and my family. I placed my right hand over my heart as I spoke in English, “Aldra, I have my own daughter’s safety to consider. If you or I were to take Amy in and her secret is exposed, we will all be in danger.” From Amelia’s downfallen expression and Danny’s look of understanding, I knew the misdirection had worked. Aldra on the other hand understood perfectly well the secret I was actually referring to. She was the whole reason I was here on Bet after all.

“Danny, please inform Sarah that her niece is safely with us and has been found by my long lost sister so she doesn’t lead New Wave to storm the castle. Amy can spend the night with us and I will be happy to host a lunch with them tomorrow.” I took Amelia’s hand and firmly led her to Danny while my sister fumed. I knelt down to face the young Dallon who was on the verge of tears. Her pained expression reminded me so much of Taylor that I nearly caved, but I held firm even as I spoke as gently as I can.

“Amy, why don’t you spend some time with Mr Hebert over there? I need to speak with Aldra over some things.” I winced at the vehemence as the young girl protested her unhappiness over the situation.

“No! You’re mean and I’m not leaving Auntie Aldra!” Amelia wrenched away from my grip and ran towards my sister, hugging her tightly. Aldra gently stroked the hair of the sobbing girl before lifting her up to her shoulders and returned the hug fiercely.

“It’s okay, ma petite ange. After I’ve had words with Auntie Anne for being a meanie, we can have a sleepover together. So you stay with Mr Hebert for now okay? Oh, I know!” Aldra carried the young girl over to her duffel bag and set her down before ruffling through the contents. My heart skipped a beat in excitement as I recognised the tell-tale glimmer of a shrunken down Grim Venus and my horse choker for summoning Ambrosius. My sister then let out a triumphant cry as she pulled out a pink teddy bear with an eye patch over the right eye and a spiked choker and a green frog pushy from her luggage. Aldra has some weird ideas on what constitutes suitable playmates for young human children.

“The teddy bear is Belphe and the frog is Dogor. They will keep you company and safe and if they act mean, I will know.” Aldra flashed an evil smile that matched the best of her days as a tyrant ruling over the Continent. I could almost swear the two dolls are shaking. The young girl took the two stuffed animals housing demonic nobility and stuck out her pinkie in her free hand. Aldra needed no prodding as she gladly made the vow before Danny guided Amy towards the kitchen. I walked towards my atelier with Aldra following close behind me and turned on the Royal Mystery to prevent eavesdropping once inside. My sister’s face lost all signs of humour and goofiness as she demanded answers from me, her face mere inches away from mine as she peered at me, looking for signs of me being mind-controlled or otherwise dominated.

“Tell me Annelotte Kreutz. Why is the Swamp Witch alive and why are you dying of her curse?” Demon’s Blade appeared as Aldra gripped her weapon tightly, ready to do what she feels is necessary.

“Why should I not finish the job and kill the Witch reborn?”

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The next day came and went, as the Pelhams and Dallons arrived to pick up their runaway though they declined the lunch invite. Or rather the Pelhams arrived in civilian guise while Brandish had arrived in costume with her husband Flashbang along visibly reluctant. I’m starting to think Carol has a bit of a complex regarding her adopted child. Amy who had spent the night in my atelier’s cot along with Aldra was wrapped firmly in a protective embrace by my sister who glared daggers at the quote “mean lady” unquote. Leave it to Photon Mom to defuse the standoff with a question on my sister’s choice of hair colour.

“So Aldra? Nice dye job on the hair. You have a stylist or did you do it yourself.”

“Dyed it myself. I am actually albino and I didn’t want to resemble a wicked stepmother who aged before her time.” Aldra shot a glare at Brandish, who bristled at the insult but remained stone faced and unmoving. The Pelham matriarch then decided to take over the negotiations before her sister went full attack dog lawyer and set off Aldra.

“Anne, a moment of your time please.”

Sarah decided to call in her favour that I had promised her in the aftermath of that fiasco with Max Anders. Sarah helped lighten her sister’s burden by having Brandish agree to let Victoria and Amy spend more time with Aldra and even stay over a few nights. Amy however will thankfully remain with the Dallons. I simply cannot afford to take in someone so connected to the cape scene. As the New Wave collected their young adoptee, Aldra bid a tearful farewell before she walked back into the house silently. It had been a long night for both of us with me convincing my sister to withhold judgement on Taylor.

Aldra trusted my judgement and was convinced I had not been corrupted or controlled by the Witch, and was willing to observe Taylor’s growth. I had drawn Grim Venus and threatened to fight her to the death to convince her, but in the end Aldra backed down after extracting a vow that I would not stop her if Taylor were to show signs of being corrupted by the Witch’s influence.

It was a lie of course, and I suspected Aldra knew that as well. Convincing Yuit and the rest of my sworn sisters back home however had proven far more difficult however, and I did not relish having to yell, cajole and threaten people I considered my kin after being separated for seven years. I went into my atelier, knowing that Aldra had preceded me into my sanctum. I saw Aldra standing next to the mahogany desk that stood in the centre of the room, and on it was an olive green metal case. As I approached the case, a small slot on the top opened up and I saw a small Wizard Stone forged crystal pop up before it projected a small sphere that resembled a large crystal ball floating above the desk.

“A projection spell, like the ones the Angels use to broadcast the Queen’s Blade matches.” My voice was tinged with nostalgia and wonder as I saw the magic of my homeland once again with my own eyes. The fog in the projection soon cleared up, and I saw the banner of the Kreutz Margrave, a dull yellow fleur-de-lis on dark green field hanging on the wall of the Kreutz castle state room. My eyes started to blink rapidly as I fought off the tears upon viewing once again my rebuilt childhood home. Aldra stood to my right and placed a hand on my shoulder, giving me a warm smile which I returned.

“Big Brother, it’s good to see you again.” A voice at once high pitched and childish yet steady with the experience of decades of war and governance. My confidant and advisor, the little Elf Yuit.

“Aneja! It’s been so long! When you coming home so I can give you a big, big, hug!” Melodic and exotic with the sing-song accent of the Shai Fang people belling the shrewdness and instinct of a capable commander, fighter and mage of her unique Shai Fang magic. Taiyang. Her cross-dressing brother Saiyang dressed in a white qipao was looking shyly at me.

“Annie! Oh I just love your new look!” Luna-Luna. The dual personality priestess of the Calibara who is fair skinned and innocent when representing the Sun, tanned, bronzed and sultry when representing the moon. For once, she was wearing clothes that consist of material that’s more than a handkerchief and a napkin.

“Sister Anne…I mean your Majesty!” Mirim, teal-haired and wide eyed even after seeing first-hand the horrors of the War of Thunder and an invincible avatar of war on the battlefield.

“Gao!” A mechanical feminine chime from the Automata Vante, designed to resemble a buxom freckled blonde elf in a maid’s uniform.

“Your Majesty. I thank the Light of Heaven for once again being able to see you. “Serene yet firm, the stern visage of Inquisitor Sigui in her dark blue nun’s habit struck fear into the hearts of heretics, blasphemers and demons alike.

I struggled to keep my tone steady as my tears flowed freely on seeing the people I considered closer than lovers and family for a decade of my life. There is so much I have to say.

“All of you. I...I miss all of you so much. I’m speechless.” I bit down on my lip, regaining my composure before I continued, “Tell me everything that has happened these seven years.” And so they did. The Continent has bloomed in the aftermath of the reconstruction from the War of Thunder and the Second Witch Hunt. I heard how the population of the Continent had grown, with the seventy five million souls that survived the cataclysm of war now had another thirty million ready to join once they reached the age of majority at twelve. I heard of how Yuit, along with the surrendered Ymir and Elin were going to connect all the cities, towns, villages and hamlets of the Continent with roads and railways with trains and airships powered by the Wizard Stones being mined and made in workshops and factories across the Continent. How vox and pict projectors will change communications in the Continent, allowing projection magic to be a daily affair rather than the exclusive domains of magi and Angels.

“We have Court Mage Alicia to thank for this. Five years ago, an experiment with teleportation magic led us to come into contact with a world called Aleph. She scouted that world in disguise and brought back many ideas on changing our Continent, though we have Ymir to thank for expanding the uses of the roads, railways and communications beyond the military and Court business. After the fiasco that was Mel Fairland, we are elated that Aleph proved so beneficial to us.”

My mind’s gears started moving as I made the connection between the Court Mage and the Bellesoldat I’ve seen on the news last night.

“This Alicia. She a dusty brunette, almost blonde hip length hair with a blue mantle, skirt and white shirt? Wields a rapier she names Liddell? Manipulates dark magic?”

“That’s the one!” Luna-Luna beamed with pride. I figured she probably scouted her talent going by her reaction. “Alicia was also the one who informed us of the culture of Earth Bet, the capes and of course, she found you as well! It wasn’t easy to confirm if you’re really, you know our Queen since you look so different. So Aldra volunteered to confirm if it was you since she’d be able to tell your soul, even if it’s inhabiting another vessel. Personally, I think she’s just eager to walk of the extra calories after ingesting Delmore. She got that bastard good!”

I suppressed a sigh. I was so sure my cover was nice and impregnable.

“Speaking of Your Majesty being yourself, we got a troubling report just now from Co-Regent Aldra just now.” Sigui stated evenly as she gave me an appraising stare. The expressions of my other companions turned either carefully neutral or openly worried as the conversation took a turn for the unpleasant. The redhead inquisitor cleared her throat as she continued her questioning. “We understand that the Witch’s curse is still slowly killing you, despite her reformed soul not actively maintaining it. We also understand that the native girl known as Taylor Anne Hebert, who is the daughter of the Annette Hebert you have possessed is the next Swamp Witch.” Sigui’s face was a stone mask as she spoke the next words.

“My queen, I beg you to let me understand why you’re allowing yourself to die to ensure the growth of the next Swamp Witch. Why did you vow to protect the Widowmaker? Taylor Hebert is a common-born native of an alien world.”

I felt something snap as I burst in anger.

“Taylor Hebert is my daughter!” I raged at the accusation levelled at me by the inquisitor. “Annette Rose Hebert was a mighty woman who fought me and the soul of the Swamp Witch and nearly won and Daniel Hebert is my husband who bore shame that he had no reason to bare! I will not have you slander my family, Inquisitor!” I felt a gentle hand land on my shoulder and Aldra gave me a wan smile as she pulled me behind her. I showed my back to the projection and Sigui. I knew she was sincerely worried over my state of mind and the fate of the world, but if I continued now, I will surely say something I regret.

“The young Taylor, from what I’ve seen is a precious, beautiful child. Loyal, steadfast and filled with a sense of right and wrong that is very much like Anne here. She is summoning and manipulating wraiths yes, now don’t give me that look Sigui you are fully aware non sentient undead are not actually the souls of the departed, but she’s unaware of the nature of her powers or that of her mother. As far as the young princess is aware, her powers are actually that of the parahumans of Earth Bet and Aleph.”

I could hear Aldra’s smirk as she gave her proposal.

“I believe that is would be better if the young Taylor is presented to all her Aunts from Europe, so she may understand her mother’s “past”. That way, all of you here can determine your opinion of my sister’s chosen heir. Once she reaches the age of majority at twelve, we can reveal the truth of her heritage.” A pall of silence fell over the room as my sisters awaited my decision. I hesitated for a while, before I began walking out of my atelier without turning back to face the others.

“I will go bring Taylor in once I’ve sent Emma home.”

 

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A/N Sometimes I wonder if this fic would be more popular if I had started out with Taylor’s POV straight out or immediately after Danny’s chapters. But I felt that Annelotte and Annette deserved to be a character in her own right rather than a background character that serves primarily as a motive for the MC. Let me know if you feel that Anne was getting too much attention from the heavyweights of BB in this story.

Note that the Rebellion anime showed Ymir as Strategist for the Queen’s Army making use of powered vehicles, radio communications and even had real time imaging of the battlefield. How they lost with such tactical advantages is probably due to bad writing on the part of the anime team. Well, maybe Annelotte in demon form and Mirim soloing entire armies tilted the balance somewhat.  



	9. Arc 1.4 Possession. The Heberts (b)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Swamp Witch Taylor Hebert is finally reborn

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also, the sword wielded by Leina Vance will be named Edenfeld, the spelling used on TV tropes. While canonically the name is supposed to be mean Wind of Victory in Dwarvish, the sword glows when fighting enemies of demonic origins and the name Edenfeld according to houseofnames.com says its origins are from the Saxon word Ingle, meaning fire or beacon light. Fitting for this weapon. I had used the spelling for Yuit as the one specified in the wiki rather than the one in TV tropes which might be more accurate since it spelled as the French word actually is (Huit) and Vante (Vingit) but hey, Continental isn’t French after all.
> 
> Mirim’s POV is pretty intense so be forewarned. It was dark and wrenched at my heart to write, but I felt it was needed to show why despite Anne being gone for seven years in story by now, her sworn sisters have remained so fiercely loyal to her. As always, hope you people can see if there’s anything that doesn’t fit or any mistakes at all.

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Taylor Hebert

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My first memory was Mama cooing over me in the large white room, gently stroking my cheeks and brushing my hair. I would see things that look like bubbles and clouds in the air and I felt an itch just below my skin when I’m with a lot of people. Mama said I would cry very loudly when there are too many people I’ve not met before in the same room but I remember when Mama brushed my forehead and began cooing, the itch died down and the bubbles and clouds would go away.

The crying would stop, while Mama would show me off to Auntie Sarah, Uncle Mark and sometimes Auntie Carol. Auntie Carol, some would say she’s cold or mean, like she won’t let you watch cartoons after seven or make me eat all the broccoli. But I think she’s more just really tired like Mama can be after spending a long time in that large white room with the throne.

Uncle Max though, when I saw him on the few times was actually a lot of fun. Auntie Maxine and Uncle Max’s wife Auntie Heith on the other hand, not so much. Auntie Maxine however really liked Mama, because Uncle Max seem to like Mama more than he did Auntie Heith and that always made Auntie Maxine laugh. Auntie Maxine seemed mean to most people though, like Uncle James when he tagged along.

As I grew older and started learning about superheroes, I began to think Mama was like Alexandria who fought to save the world. But Mama told me she was retired from the business, never thought she was a hero and was now teaching English and European History in college. I always thought Mama could be the next Alexandria if she wanted to, but Mama would laugh when I told her that, and she said she had enough of saving the world and said if I wanted to, I can do it when I’m older and bigger. I told her if that’s the case I wanted to grow up big and strong tomorrow and Mama would have that look I later learnt something had happened to upset her. The look didn’t stay long, but I didn’t like Mama doing that, so I told my body to stop trying to force away the restraints preventing my body from growing older as fast as I wanted them to.

When I started to grow older, Mr Smokey and his many friends started to appear from those clouds and bubbles and it made the itch better. Mama once told me after my fifth birthday to not tell people about Mr Smokey and his friends, because people will either make fun of me, or because it would give away my secret identity of a hero in training. That was also why Mama never told Dad about the fact she used to be a superhero. Mama also said that changing the land to silent that itch was not good because it changed other people’s houses and gardens. So she said the restraints she placed on me helps to prevent me from doing the change Mama called the Blight is very helpful.

One day, Puppy and Kitty Smokey got into a fight with Mr Hudson’s big dog called Insides. The dog actually had a more fancy name, but I never really liked him and the last time I saw the dog, he’s insides were all over their lawn, so that’s what I named him. I felt bad that the Smokes had killed the dog, so I decided to bring him back. But when Mama saw Insides, she said that he came back wrong because half of his insides were actually hanging outside and his fur was starting to drop off. There was also the problem which he won’t stop drooling, so Mama took a sharp cleaver and brought him away from the house and came back without him.

Mama later told me Mrs Hudson found Insides near Lord Street and he had been run over by a car. The dog was supposed to have been found in a few pieces along the road and people said they could still smell the burning rubber though no one saw the car. Mama later brought them a similar puppy.

After that, Mama told me I can only use Smokey and his friends inside the basement, or atelier as she insisted I called it, and only after she was satisfied with my Continental language lessons. Mama had told me it wasn’t French, despite what Emma would say when she heard me and Mama speaking it. Mama also said that I cannot hit others no matter what without her permission. I agreed because as Mama taught me, real heroes only hit other villains for real and if it was someone without powers, we have to treat them carefully in case they break. I did tell Mama once if they broke, I can bring them back again like I did Insides, but with practice, they would have all the things inside instead of half, and they’d stop drooling too.

Mama actually spanked me hard for that, but she later started to cry and said she was sorry. She also made me promise never to do that until I was older and only do so with guidance. Mama actually looked lost when I asked who was supposed to guide me so I can bring people back normally. We then started going into the woods outside Brockton Bay for camping trips, and Mama would teach me how to pitch a tent, make fire with flint and knives and most importantly, how to fight and Speak the Words. Mama also allowed me to let the Blight out by releasing the restraints, which made me feel a lot better because in the woods, I can feel all the bugs, spiders, birds and other animals near me and the Blight made them silent, so the itch went away. I also learnt how to use Mr Smokey and his friends in many ways and being able to control the trees, mud and even the rocks was fun!

Mama did tell me not to control the air or the clouds though. She mentioned it was cheating to not allow her to breathe when we practiced and she will go all scary like with the red eyes, pale skin and glowing black hair. That black flame she uses when Mama becomes Mother and all scary like hurts a lot when it burns you. She also said that changing the clouds from night to day because I was scared of the dark will expose our secret identity so I was not allowed to do it. Sometimes, Mama would place restraints on me using the Blight and Smokey, insisting I learnt how to fight with the swords from Uncle Max and also with only my hands and feet. Learning how to fight like that was fun, since Mama became Mother and allowed me to not have to treat others like glass.

Sometimes, a deer or even a wolf will appear near our campsite, and Mother will play a game of hunting. I would use Smokey and his family, while Mama would use her Minions. The loser will have to skin and clean the animal for cooking. Since Mother forbids me from bringing back animals again like with Insides, it was a dreary, awful job and I made the Smokes work extra hard against the Minions Mother summoned.

But of course, Sister Werbellia has different ideas of course, because she feels I should summon Minions too and they’d be stronger and faster than Mother’s own. After the first trip, Sister Werbellia appeared while I was sleeping and dreaming, though she sometimes appeared when I was awake though never when Mama was around. She would appear around Dad though and sometimes said mean things about him knowing he can’t see her. Mostly, they go like this.

“How did that daughter of mine fall for this male specimen? Her host must really be affecting her because at least I choose the human Pope when I popped out Aldra and her!”

She insisted that I called her Sister instead of Grandma although she said Mama was her daughter. To be honest, Sister Werbellia was actually prettier than Mama except when Mama gets scary and her eyes go red. Then, Werbellia and Mama looks really alike. Sister Werbellia also have ears that are sharp as knives, skin that’s fair to the point of being pale and her body resembles the ladies in the magazines at the store Mama said I wasn’t supposed to read. She also has dresses funny, like a superhero or villain but with lesser cloth around her groin and chest areas. The only time I’ve seen anyone wear those type of clothes was when I sent Ms Smokey into my parent’s room by accident and I saw Mama wearing something similar.

Her glare was scary. I learned to make sure Mama is not alone with Dad before sending any of the Smokes inside.

Even though Sis can be really mean and suggested naughty things that little girls shouldn’t be doing, Sister Werbellia didn’t feel that bad and she was very knowledgeable when it comes to controlling Smokey and even other things like getting around the restraints on the Blight. She also didn’t force me to break my promise to Mama on not bringing people back until I was older.

“My darling daughters may see things differently, but I am not the Swamp Witch anymore. You are. I am only a very vivid imagination of your overactive mind who’s thinking of her dead grandmother she doesn’t even know exist.”

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A few weeks after my seventh birthday, Mama got an unexpected visitor. It was the first time I’ve heard of Auntie Aldra, but while I learnt she was kind like Mama can be, she was also more funny and touchy feely than Mama is. When that girl Amy arrived, there was a bit of commotion in the living room. I heard the events happening through Mr Smokey XII who hid near the stairs after he failed to get the ice-cream from the fridge. The sound of Mama and Aldra speaking about adult stuff woke up Emma, who looked sleepily at the door where the noise was coming from before turning to look at me for an explanation.

“Mom has some visitors. I think she’s the new girl Mom was speaking about adopted by Auntie Carol.” I’ve started to call Mama Mom when speaking English instead of what I used to address her by. Emma had once teased me and said it made me sound like a baby when I used the word Mama.

Emma just groaned in frustration at her sleep being interrupted and then pulled her covers over her face. She sure is grouchy when awoken from her sleep and also not very observant given that I knew what was going on downstairs while being next to her in my bedroom. I dismissed Smokey XII and prepared for bed. Several hours passed as I tried fitfully to doze off, but sleep evaded me as I was still brimming with energy despite my day with Emma having worn her out completely and Sister Werbellia ignored my prodding for a chat or something. I was about to sneak out of the house or head to Mom’s atelier when the door creaked open slowly.

A head full of lavender hair and sharp ears poked from the ajar door scanning the room before crimson eyes fell on me. The red orbs blazed with curiosity as she studied me before wrinkles formed around them as their owner gave me a half simile that didn’t quite reach them. The pale skin and unique features resemble Mom when she’s transformed into her Changer state which Mom calls her demon form. Family resemblance alone told me who this new guest in my home was.

“You must be my aunt Aldra I heard Mom talking about just now. Hi, I’m Taylor. Are you a Changer demon like my mom? Is that why your ears are so sharp and your skin is pale? What about Minions? Or maybe something like Ambrosius. You have a cool fiery stead too?”

Ruby ovals widen in surprise at barrage of questions before her smile followed suit and showed a warmth that was previously missing. Her light laughter sounded like the ringing of bells attached to bangles instead of the light tinkle of pianos that Mom makes when she’s amused. The door opened wide as my aunt strode lightly into the room and loomed over me, studying me with an intense interest before she squeezed me into a hug. Yes, Aunt Aldra is a lot more touchy feely than Mom is even considering what little I remember of my toddler years.

“Oh, ma petite belle, you’re adorable! Straight as an arrow and as blunt as the whetstones used to sharpen them.” Aunt Aldra squealed in delight as she nuzzled me. “Hard to believe you’re her successor.”

“Are you…” A slight nudge at the back of my brain. Werbellia sometimes did that to get my attention I was going to blow her cover. For an imaginary friend, she sure gets plenty picky. “Are you referring to anyone I know?” I had my suspicions, but I didn’t need my crystal ball to predict that my aunt was going to give me an answer.

“Someone you should do your level best not to imitate, Tay. Sleep well tonight. I have another darling angel I have to check on tonight.” Not really the answer I was looking for, and not really one that’d work for me

As the door closed after Aldra left, I did not have to turn my head to know that Werbellia had formed near my window sill. It was actually too narrow to sit on or even float on, but I suppose my imagined ghost of a dead grandmother can ignore little nuisances like physics or reality as she seemingly displaced the bits of wall and window.

I turned to look at the dark haired apparition as she looked at the door with a wistful look that I’ve never seen etched on her face before. She placed a gloved hand on her chest and grimaced as she whispered below her breath.

“A family reunion after almost seven years. I swear to myself I hope that it doesn’t end like the last one.”

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The next morning, Emma was up bright and early while I felt groggy from the short amount of sleep I had. I had discovered during the third camping trip with Mom that I didn’t need much sleep, as we engaged in a running mock battle for thirty hours straight and I didn’t feel any signs of sleepiness. I was tired, but it was different from the need to close your eyes and let your mind and senses just enter that state of sleepiness. I had to make my body shut down enough to doze off and even then the slightest disturbance would make me snap from drowsiness to full alert. Actually waking up after a couple of hours of sleep however left me mildly drowsy, but the effects of that forced rest made me very refreshed.

Emma of course, needed her beauty sleep. But she was diligent in ensuring she woke up and went to bed at the designated time. Already, as I was getting my bearings on my surroundings and shuffled to the bathroom, my friend was already dolled up in her sundress that was beige with streaks of blue over it and was putting the last touches to her braids on that fiery red hair she was so proud of. Emma’s bright green eyes and perfectly straight, white teeth sparkled against the polished white porcelain sink as she checked herself before she gave me an annoyingly cheerful smile. How can someone so surly when awoken be so bright and irritating after a few minutes in the bathroom? A knock on the door and Mom poked her head into the ajar bath room door and flashed her practiced grin- just half the teeth showing and exactly two inches on the side of lips- she used on the Barnes regularly.

“Good morning, Mrs Hebert.” The redhead then gave an actual curtsy, knees bent outward and sweeping one foot behind her, to my mother as I rolled my eyes. Mom’s influence has got a number of the ladies of the upper crust in a tizzy about proper etiquette and as most who try too hard are won’t to do, gestures and manners that died out with the petticoat went out of everyday fashion came sweeping back in. And that accent, that faux British accent that my Dad assured me from his dock workers who actually came from the UK only an American acting in a Jane Austen inspired flick would use. I guess the fact that my Mom was fluent in an obscure French dialect and American English was lost on Emma and her mother.

My mother of course was delighted at this show of courtly deference to her even though it made me cringe. She returned a half neck bow before she glanced at me in my dishevelled state with a disapproving look. Oh yes Mother, prefer my foppish best friend to your own low born daughter. Her grin grew wider as she sighed theatrically and swooned before she lamented loudly.

“Oh why can’t my little Taylor be like her best friend? The shame! Danny, this is your doing, isn’t it!”

A few seconds passed, before the sounds of Dad’s roaring laughter from downstairs caused all three of us to break into fits of laughter of our own.

“All right Emma let’s go. Zoe’s going to think I’ve kidnapped you and sold you into chattel slavery if I don’t have you back by nine. We’ll leave Taylor here to make herself human again instead of a sleepy zombie fresh from the grave.” I stuck out my arms, formed claws with my hands while I stomped and groaned to do my best impression of the shambling dead. Emma laughed again before she turned away from me to face Mom, wiping tears from her eyes.

“Thanks for having me over so much, Mrs H. Mom can get real overbearing when talking about you.” Her accent finally reverted to her actual New Englander rather than the put upon ponce she sounded like just now. Mom just grinned and took Emma’s hand to guide her to the car but stopped as she reached my room for Emma’s luggage and turned back to face me.

“After I’ve sent Emma home, we are going to have a get together with some old colleagues of mine in the den. Your Aunt Aldra will be joining us.”

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Aunt Aldra was a ball of energy and was actually capable of keeping up with me. Dad for his part was poring over his files on the workers in the union who might need work urgently, which means he’s looking over all the workers not directly employed by the Dockworker’s Union. My aunt and I chatted in Continental to avoid Dad overhearing anything inconvenient

Mom used to be able to do so, but after my last camping trip when we met Marquis, she stopped bringing me out to let loose in the wild, confining me to the atelier instead, which was plenty fun though. Mom gets creative with her use of the environment when training me. The tiles which are somehow carved out from a marble floor that’s made from a complete slab of marble hurts hard, even though I knew they weren’t actually real. Real marble tiles do not disappear after you get brained by them after all. Mama’s Shaker power generated tiles are bullshit, though I won’t actually use that word in front of my mother since she’d then hit me with the tiles again for swearing.

Mom however was usually reluctant to let me know the details of her previous hero career. She’d tell me that their base moved around, and they even once had a floating castle base and even one that was a moving city the size of a mountain that rested on a giant insectoid but she’d never tell me the details of what she did and who she helped and fought. Like Aunt Aldra, Mom would refer to Europe as the Continent, which isn’t unusual from what I’ve heard from my classmates that are refugees from the UK, but she never actually used the E- word when referring to Europe. Likewise, Aunt Aldra did the same thing. Though unlike Mom, my jovial aunt was more than happy to regale me with tales of her encounters. Like she was right now telling me of an encounter Mom had involving two Case- 53 villains named Belphe and Dolgor and a Japanese rookie hero cape called Izumi.

“Izumi had plenty of heart and bravery as well as being very tough. What she was not was skilled enough to deal with those two. She got manhandled and was dangled upside down like a fish on display, when suddenly whoosh! A burning ball of light just bursts right between the two of them, causing Belphe, or was it Dolgor, eh whatever to drop Izumi and that’s when Anne got a shock when she recognised that sword the Shadow Warrior Maria was holding. Edenfeld, the Wind of Victory. At least, it looked very much alike it. But the fights she participated in Gainos happened half the Continent away when your mother’s hometown was still in the early morning hours, so she never actually watched a live projection. Anne couldn’t deduce if Maria was indeed Leina Vance, and her eyes were a shade of purple instead of Vance’s own blue. Plus, Leina was sleepwalking! Imagine beating two Demon nobles while sleepwalking. No wonder the Queen’s Army was so terrified of her.”

I noted to myself that the European parahuman scene appeared to be a lot more mystical focused than the one here in North America. I suppose having a long history of folklore and a resurgence of fantasy movies in Europe as the populace sought solace from their troubles contributed to this trend. But the names like Leina Vance, Edenfeld, and Gainos. From her description, those were cape fights that should have been broadcast all over the net and the news just from the powers and the scale of them. So why haven’t I heard of them before? Maybe I will check Parahumans Online later. That forum ought to have some info on even the most obscure cape fights across the Atlantic.

My thoughts were interrupted by the sound of Mom’s car pulling into the driveway and the beeping of the power locks closing as she exited the vehicle. Dad even looked up smiling from his work as the door opened and Mom walked in. Mom looked frustrated, not surprising considering how Emma’s mom Zoe took Mom’s rapid rise in the popularity sweepstakes of Brockton Bay very personally. I wouldn’t put it pass Mrs Barnes to have been waiting to throw barbs at her and I wonder if one day the barbs will become physical ones. Dad went up to her and Mom gladly hugged him while planting a kiss on both his cheeks before burying herself in his chest.

Aunt Aldra couldn’t resist, and started to make a kissy face while smacking her lips loudly. I admit it wasn’t very mature of me and I always considered myself smarter and wise beyond my years, but I started giggling uncontrollably at her antic. In my defence, my Dad Danny also started to giggle too. Mom flashed us an annoyed glare and a growl, which caused Dad to quickly go stone faced. Well, the left side of his lips are still twitching, and I see him biting his upper lip,

“Alright, children. Go into the den to wait for me. I will be joining the two of you shortly.”

“Hey, I’m older than you. Don’t you go ordering me around?” Aunt Aldra had took offense and huffed at the treatment she got. Well, actually, she more huffed out the protest in between giggling.

“Well now you’re acting like Taylor’s younger baby sister. Considering I’ve snipped my tubes, I certainly don’t remember birthing you. Now go, act like an adult!”

Aldra and I entered the atelier with Mom following shortly. I heard her invoke the Royal Mystery and the Walls of Iron and Floors of Bronze. A green metal case with a small red crystal encased on a pedestal above it then shot up a projection screen and I saw several people inside. A girl with sharp ears, blue eyes and dark hair wearing a green mantle with gold trimmings, a green bodysuit with an Ankh symbol on it and matching green gloves. A busty woman likely in her late 20s, rather short but curvy and muscular with oh god, teal hair and eyebrows. A woman in a dark blue nun’s habit that had a cross with an axe head on the right weaved in elaborate patterns on the uniform, a fair skin woman who resembled a Polynesian except with a dancer’s body and somehow inexplicable curvy chest and hips and a pair of Asian, possibly Chinese sisters in a white and red qipao. From the way they carried themselves, I guessed the red qipao is to be the elder one.

Mom coughed into her hand to catch my attention as she waved at the projection of her old comrades.

“Taylor, please meet the New Queen’s Army, formerly the Rebellion Army.”

My cape fan’s sense of indignation kicked in as I groaned at the sheer lack of creativity at the group name. At least the Brockton Bay Brigade eventually went with New Wave after unmasking.

“Seriously, Mom! How hard was it to just check a thesaurus?” I saw the child cape in green brighten at my complaint over the lack of creativity and beamed at my comments. She commented triumphantly at my critique.

“See! I suggested so many names, but noo!!! Straight forward and no frills it is!”

I returned the praise offered by a practicing cape my own age and beamed back.

“See, us kids ought to stick together. Get them adults to recognise our potential!”

The child cape’s face turned black like a brewing tempest even as her companions started snickering. Except for the Chinese woman in the red qipao. She started pumping her fists in the air and began chanting “Tenth time for Yuit!” repeatedly while collecting purses from the others except for the child who was speaking to me. The child whom I deduced was the Yuit in question thanks to the taunting chant, folded her arms in annoyance as she glared at me.

“You brat! I’m only one year younger than your mother. Show some respect for your elders!”

I returned the gesture and turned my nose up on her.

“Lying isn’t very good behaviour. Didn’t your mother teach you anything? Shouldn’t it be night in Europe right now? Go to bed already!”

Yuit choked on her own bile as her eyes bore into me, before she raised her right hand.

“I vote we kill her.” Well, my life’s now a reality show.

“I vote she lives. She riles you up good and makes me laugh, so she lives!” The red qipao cape raised her right hand and in support. I saw the younger Asian female in white raise her hand in support. The younger Chinese sister gave me a shy smile, which I returned with a wide grin of my own.

“I’m Yang Saiyang, and this is my elder sister Taiyang. I’m real glad to meet you, Princess?” Did Mom already give me a cape name without my knowledge? Or are they just calling me that because Mom was their leader?

“I agree, if my husband Anne decided to keep her, she must be a real treasure!” Husband? Mom’s married to her and she’s the husband? And did her skin just turn black? Are all of Mom’s old work friends Changers and sort of insane?

The teal haired woman looked at me quietly, a curious expression on her face as she studied me from head to toe, her head and gaze going up and down the length of my body as she looked. She hummed in frustration as she looked me over for the fifth time, before she turned away from me, her voice quivering. Did I offend her someway? Most adults I know don’t cry that easily.

“I’m Mirim.” Said the cape with the unusual hair. “I vote that you live. Excuse me.” I watched helplessly as Mirim walked out of the projector screen’s radius. I will make sure to ask Mom If there’s any way I can cheer her up someday. I noticed the others had sobered up as their friend left their room, all signs of good cheer and humour evaporating along with the teal haired cape’s departure.

“Inquisitor. If you will.” Yuit’s voice now sounded completely different from the childlike pitch she had used just a minute ago. She was now older, more decisive and yet worn out. I could almost believe her claims she was only a year younger than Mom. She certainly sounded like it. The redhead with the nun’s habit nodded as she walked up towards the screen until I saw her face cover the projector’s screen. A question I had for her died when she intoned the words that introduced me to a world of pain and discomfort I’ve never felt before.

“Sacred Word: Gnosis.”

I saw the eyes and face of the redhead cape light up like Purity, except the light was to me a thousand times far more intense. I felt a severe itch under my skin tear into me beneath my skin like a million bugs were biting at once. I closed my eyes and screamed at that painful white glare. I felt two different hands grab onto my shoulders and I turned to glare at Mom and Aunt Aldra, before noticing Mom had entered her Changer form, but her face was wincing in intense pain. Aunt Aldra’s hair had turned silver and her eyes were as sharp as Mom’s, while her teeth were bared showing rows of vicious looking fangs and the always cheerful aunt of mine was trembling.

And just as sudden was that blast of white light, it disappeared and Inquisitor was no longer glowing like a light bulb. A serene and satisfied smile showed as she heaved a sigh of relieve.

“Her Maj… Big Sister Anne and Aldra was correct. The young Taylor is truly pure of heart, even with that person’s influence. I vouch for her.” I wasn’t sure who that person was, but despite the end of the ordeal from her Blaster powers she tested all three of us on, I felt exhausted in a way I’ve never felt before and looked at my equally tired looking mother wordlessly. Mom nodded and I felt Aldra guide me towards the exit of the atelier. As I reached for the door, I vaguely heard my mother converse with Yuit in a low voice, but then I heard the child cape exclaim in undisguised surprised.

“You want to request for a miracle?!”

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Mirim

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I ran.

For four days and nights I ran. Across plains, forests, hills, towns, paved roads for three hundred miles I ran. I lost count of the amount of forts I’ve smashed through, the amount of red armour clad soldiers of the Queen’s Army I’ve cut through like my trusty sickle through golden stalks of wheat and vine during the warm summer harvest. A few of them had even served under my banner before when we fought on the same side. I felt the impact of the feedback as my Hyper Vibration field took absorbed attacks, weapon, magical and fist alike.

There was always the thought of my family. The one that I’ve sent money and word to escape from Wascillica and hide elsewhere when I switched sides to the Rebellion. My Ma and Pa and my seven siblings. Reserved Jeanette, haughty Marie, inquisitive Yvette, absorbed Soiree, brave Pierre, foolhardy Jacqueline, headstrong Louis. Wascillica my hometown was under the control of Ymir’s army group. I knew the price of treachery well so I had sent word and money ahead of me as I deserted the Rebel Army to guide my family to safety. A sense of dread had filled the pit of my stomach as I thought of the safety of my family and on the eve of an important battle against that Dragon blood Bellesoldat Branwen I fled from my camp.

I ran across several Queen’s Army soldiers carrying booty along the pathway to the remote village Ma and Pa had taken shelter in and I had wordlessly cut them down. I ruffled through their ill-gotten gains, ignoring my burning lungs, dehydration, gnawing hunger and tearing joints as I checked for anything that would remind me of my family. My heart sank as I recognised the butterfly hairpin Marie wore with pride, covered in dried blood. I smelt burnt wood and thatch in the wind, along with the pungent stench of rotting meat as I ran again towards the hideout. As I arrived at the haven I arranged for my family, I saw hell.

My family, Ma, Pa and my brother and sisters. Dumped into a shallow grave, their bodies stripped of everything as I desperately cut away the birds and other scavengers that had fed on their bodies. I spied not a few feet away from the pit where they dumped my family like garbage the familiar shape of Louis lying sideways with her back facing me. Her clothes were torn but barely clinging onto her bruised body and hope swelled in me as I saw her twitching away. I raged and screeched with pain as I came close and cut to pieces wild dogs that were crouched down, chomping away at my sister’s body away from my view. I slumped to the floor in defeat as I tried not to let my mind process what the rope burns, the bruising between her thighs that were not partially consumed, the tell-tale signs of nails ran through her wrists that hinted of the torture and ravaging my proud sister had underwent.

“Found you.” I heard the rich, cultured tone of my new leader and sworn sister Annelotte from behind me before I saw her walk towards Louis’s ravaged corpse and laid her precious olive green cloak bearing the yellow fleur-de-lye- her family crest!- over the body of a weak, nobody peasant girl. I saw in wonder as I knelt in the dirt helplessly defeated at the sight of an aristocrat use an expensive piece of equipment that represented the name and prestige of her house as a burial shroud for someone she never met before. I sat bewildered as I saw the adopted scion of a margrave weep in sorrow over a family of the powerless and nameless. Only nobility had the dignity of a family name. Not the nameless or classless who toiled the earth like Ma and Pa did.

I beheld the miracle of an aspiring Queen’s bodyguards, clad in gleaming plate armour costing more than the entire village I grew up in use mantles bearing the name and coat of arms of their liege as shrouds for my family. Transfixed at the wonder before me I saw Annelotte Kreutz led prayers for the departed of a family of a turncoat from her enemy who deserted her on the eve of battle. I wept at the smell of precious perfumes and incense applied over their bodies as they are laid into proper graves with more dignity in a simple ceremony than they ever enjoyed in their whole wretched lives.

The soliloquy delivered was in Continental as spoken in the halls of queens, duchesses and ladies. I admit I did not understand most of the words used and even the ones I did I knew I had missed the deeper meaning. But two words stuck to me as Big Sister Annelotte hugged me close and whispered them to me as a promise.

“Jamais plus.”

Never again.  



	10. Arc 1.5 Possession Taylor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Annette dies, and Taylor tests her powers.

A Worm/Queen’s Blade Crossover.

Arc 1.5 Possession Taylor

//////////////

Taylor Hebert

/////////////

It was at a luncheon when it really hit home Mom was going to die soon.

It was held at the country club on a hill overlooking most of Brockton Bay. Mom and I arrived wearing matching cashmere jackets over our blue dresses, but Mom had to be assisted out of the car by myself and the club’s parking attendant.

I thank whatever gods care to listen that Aunt Aldra was here. Mom’s restrictions grow weaker daily along with her condition. Had it not been for my Aunt helping me let off steam and that itch under my skin at the presence of so many unfamiliar people, I might be tempted to throw off my shackles and just use the Blight, cape identity or not. I ignored Werbellia’s whispers to me that lions should not care for the opinions of the fauna. These were people!

Mom refused the wheelchair offered, her pride not allowing her to be wheeled into the restaurant like quote some invalid unquote that held the event. Dad stood on her right, helping her to her chair even as unease was written clearly on his face. It was a Medhall sponsored fundraiser for Mayor Christner’s re-election campaign, and despite Mom having stopped fundraising and other activities involving the social scene for over two years ago after I turned eight her name and endorsement was still sought after. I saw New Wave approach us as we entered the restaurant and I waved to them. Dealing with Vicky and Amy was so much easier than having to deal with the adults or everyone else there for the matter.

“Ms Aldra isn’t here?” Amy strained her neck towards the entrance, disappointment clear on her face as she realised my aunt wasn’t coming. God, her crush on Aldra was completely obvious as Vicky and myself shared knowing smirks.

“Don’t worry, leave some space for desert and we can go visit her tea shop after this!” Her blonde sister blurted out brightly while Auntie Carol’s features dimmed on the mention of Aldra. Amy sputtered awkwardly before she grabbed our hands and dragged us towards our table. As the hot starters arrived, Mom slumped over suddenly and fell face first into the consommé. Dad and Viktor, a brunette young man with a long face, from Medhall who sat next to her immediately pulled her face up from the soup and I felt my heart sink at the sight of a stream of blood trickling from her nose and her unfocused eyes.

“Possible stroke and brain aneurysm.” Viktor said darkly as several doctors in attendance moved to lay Mom to rest on her right side on the floor. As Vicky held my hands in support, I saw Amy walk towards Mom briskly and placed a hand on her neck. Mom’s eyes immediately refocused and she let out a groan as she was helped into a sitting position. My mother gave Amy a weak smile in gratitude to the newly triggered cape.

“Thank you Amy. I would congratulate you, but I heard that trigger events are nothing to be happy about.” The brunette wordlessly touched my mom on her neck again and frowned as she retracted her hand. Amy was about to try again before my mother held out her hand, signalling to my friend to cease.

“Thank you Amy. But I’m afraid there are things beyond even you.”

////////////

I could not shake the feeling that I was somehow responsible for Mom’s worsening condition as I felt my powers grow and I hit growth spurt after growth spurt. Emma said I’d get all the boys and probably most of the girl’s attention the minute I started middle school in a few weeks’ time. I appreciated her efforts to distract and console me from my mother’s impending death. So with permission, I brought her into the atelier when the Royal Presence was on.

“Is that throne made of…jade? All of it?” My redhead friend whispered in awe as she admired the Jade Throne that rested on top a mound of purple crystal, the seemingly endless arched windows that showed clouds barely concealing a massive city that stretched forever. Mom beamed with pride at Emma’s reaction. I noted to myself Mom looked far healthier and whole whenever she was here in this place. My mother walked up to Emma and placed a hand on her shoulder before gesturing me over. Mom then took both our right hands and clasped them together tightly.

“Taylor trusts you implicitly, Emma. I guess by now you’ve realised that we are not normal people.” Mom shook her head with resignation. I have bugged her ever since Emma stood up for me since I beat up that bully Hertzog when I was eight. “Have it been up to me, I would never have let you know of this place.” I felt Werbellia stir in the back of my head while Mom looked into our eyes and said gravely.

“One day, Taylor. You will bear a great burden. To bear it, you must embody an indomitable will, endurance and generosity in order to lead.” I felt my mother’s grip tighten on my shoulder in a way she hasn’t been able to do for years. “To do that, you will need support of loyalists for what castle and edifice stands without a foundation of solid support.”

“Mom?” My mother ignored my query as she turned from me and her stare bore into Emma, her gaze judging. I felt pride in my friend as Emma didn’t flinch from Mom…no Mother’s unsettling look.

“Emma Barnes. If you are ever willing, will you help to support Taylor and bear her burdens as she bears the weight of the world?”

“Mrs Hebert?”

Mom ignored Emma like she did to me as she continued.

“Comfort her when she is distressed. Shield her from that dagger in the dark. Counsel her when she is in error. Cheer her when she is triumphant. Remind her and if need be humble her when hubris threatens to overwhelm her?”

I heard Werbellia cackle in delight. Considering that my dead grandmother who insists she’s my sister is very leery of showing any signs of her presence when Mom is around, this was highly distressing for a number of reasons.

“A geas! My darling Annelotte is applying a geas on this pretty lass! My dear Taylor, what a wonderfully devious mother you have!”

I have no idea what a geas is. Werbellia never went through that when she ran me over the use of my non-Brute powers, but I am guessing it’s something unpleasant. Like a latent Master effect or something.

I had the sinking feeling my redhead friend had no idea just what she was agreeing to as she uttered the next line. Perhaps the atmosphere of Mom’s atelier overwhelmed her? Or maybe because she’s just an unpowered eleven year old? I tried to shout out, to intervene. I felt my jaw lock up as Werbellia chuckled in my head. A slight mental exertion and I seized back control, but I was too late.

“Yes, I will support Taylor. No matter what.” Emma practically glowed with pride as she reaffirmed our friendship and at my mother’s trust.

The Jade Throne glowed as the banners hanging from the pillars fluttered from a sudden gust of wind. Mom’s voice echoed with power and authority as she declared.

“So it is said, so shall it be done. You will be counsellor, guardian, companion and friend when called upon by the Crown. By the Jade Throne, Emma Barnes, We will hold you to your word.”

God damn it Mom!

//////////

Annette Rose Hebert passed away on July 17, 2006. She was confined to her hospital bed on Independence Day after her final meeting with her old cape comrades in Europe had her relapsing once again.

I remember the scene vividly where Aunt Aldra slammed open the door to the basement and yelled out for Panacea who was visiting us after her rounds at a hospital. I forcibly held Dad back from going into the basement where the atelier was. Mom’s powers were getting erratic, and I wasn’t sure if the Royal Presence was dispelled before Dad would stumble onto her secret.

“Dad, stop. Panacea and Aunt Aldra can handle it. Leave it to them.” In hindsight, Dad’s look of fury and disappointment made me reconsider both my phrasing and priorities. A worried husband over the fate of his sick wife ought to take precedence over someone’s cape identity. But I guess I was too engrossed in ensuring Mom wasn’t outed to carefully consider my actions. Werbellia again whispered to me dark thoughts that I didn’t want to consider.

“Isn’t it time for mommy dearest to move on? Us Demons shouldn’t be too attached to the physical realm. Out with the old, in with the new and all that.” I roughly shut her down. I was getting very good at blocking her out after Mom’s tenuous grip on my powers faded and the urge to unleash the Blight to silence the noise and cease the itch of life grew stronger.

Panacea and Aunt Aldra emerged from the basement door, with Mom leaning on them for support while my aunt gave directions to our home on her cell phone. Dad immediately fixated his attention to the trio emerging from the underground and brushed me aside, breaking my hold on him while running towards Mom in a panic. I felt my temper flare and a sense of wounded pride. The final vestiges of the restrictions Mom placed on me faded away like mist in the brightening sun and I reached out to the shadow of Daniel Hebert with my power, pondering on what punishment I should inflict on this mortal flea that dared to molest my person.

Mom’s look of despair and pale, gaunt face pled with me even as Dad hugged her before taking over from Panacea. A crushing weight of guilt and shame fell on me as I wondered what had overcome me and I let go of the grip on Dad’s shadow.

What have I become? I thought to myself even as I followed the paramedics wordlessly to the waiting ambulance.

////////////

“I have something to show you.”

It was Werbellia again. Mom had passed for only ten days and I was preparing for middle school with the help of Aunt Sarah and the Pelhams. Aunt Aldra and Dad were both distraught at Mom’s passing and both had retreated into their daily routines after the funeral. During this time, my not-so imaginary friend had full reign to influence me as much as she wanted. Mostly, it had to do with either suggestions on Blighting the entire Bay or maybe move onto the entire North American continent into my own personal empire, or simply indulging in my unleashed powers and raising some servants.

“Maybe some skeletons or Swamp Goblins? A horde of shambling zombies to spread terror and fear?” Werbellia’s pale face brightened as she seemed to have a eureka moment.

“Oh I know! Vampires like that Lamica offworlder! Intelligent, thinking powerful undead with a need for blood to sustain themselves! The people of this world are so creative.”

I pointedly ignored my phantom friend slash deceased relative until I felt my power stir and murky tendrils flowed out from the dark corners of my room. I saw a staff formed from the gathering darkness, slightly longer than six feet with a spearhead of deep purple with a border of red running around the edges at the bottom. A golden tripoint spearhead with an emerald cut into a sphere inlaid into it was surrounded by a six pointed flame design. The whole staff was made of a dark purple metal with deep red broidery running across the surface. I felt a sense of nostalgia at the sight of this weapon as it floated in front of me. I willed it to rest on my lap and I marvelled at how light it was, before I let it drop onto the floor and a deep thud resounded as it fell.

“The Witch’s Staff. As heavy as all the mountains of the world if you so will it, lighter than a feather if you wish it. It is yours and also you now.”

Me and Mine. I caressed the staff like a pet, savouring the feel of the cold metal on my bare hands and through the thin fabric of my pyjamas.

“Reach out of this bay with the Blight or even your wraiths, child. Brockton Bay is crawling with the parasite infected hosts known as the parahumans. Some of them might even be worthy of a taste of the Staff’s power.” All hints of playfulness had vanished from her voice as she instructed me. Despite myself I felt a tingle of excitement at the prospect.

A cape fight. A proper cape fight with some of the villains in the Bay. Aunt Aldra had told me of the epic battles she herself had participated in, and now I was going to be a part of it. I took out a crystal ball from my closet with my telekinesis and let it float lazily in the air as I scryed the city for suitable targets to test my powers on. Werbellia had once told me scrying isn’t like remote recon work via drones, but rather more viewing into possible futures including possible locations, events and outcomes using all available knowledge obtained beforehand to the person using scrying. I need to know the person or object exists before I can scry for it. Smokey and the rest of my wraiths had by now combed every surface of the city and my crystal ball began scrolling flashing images of every spot in the city that harboured parahuman activity.

I frowned as I noted several blind spots in my scrying, notably the PRT HQ and the Protectorate Rig. Seems that Tinkertech based shielding interferes with my scrying unless I have a wraith or one of my other constructs actively feeding me information. One of my wraiths entered an air duct of the rig, but as it approached an air filter, I saw the vision in my crystal ball fog up and the connection with the apparition disappear.

So filtration system designed to guard against gas based biological attacks also filter and destroy my unpowered wraiths. Something to note about.

I changed into costume, a dark purple body suit that showed off my toned midriff paired with red tipped heels on my boots. A crimson mantle with gold borders that shimmered even in the faint moonlight that entered my bedroom. I looked at the mirror, and saw that my costume accentuated my considerable curves while my lips were a deep blood red. Two thick horns protruded from the back of my head, wrapping around it until only a slight opening in the middle exposed my forehead. My irises changed from the earthy brown inherited from Dad to a golden bronze that shone like gold and my skin paled to resemble the moon in the sky. My ear sharpened like daggers and a faint shimmering black aura laid over me. My hands warped, turning deep purple, my skin turning almost reptilian in texture with red sharp claws protruding from my fingers.

“Behold and despair! The Witch reborn!”

Surprisingly, it was my voice rather than Werbellia’s that said those lines and I had said them out loud. My dead grandma is a bad influence.

I called my crystal ball to my side and the world faded away as I reappeared with my staff and crystal, hovering in the clouds above Brockton Bay. I admired the moonlight shining on me, my curly long black hair flapping freely in the wind as I counted the number of stars here above the clouds. I sighed in satisfaction and revelled in the freedom flight has granted me. Home and the atmosphere of mourning was stifling and I rejoiced in my escape from it.

“Smoky, come out and play.” I cooed to my constructs as wraiths gathered around me, the gathering numbers soon replacing the clouds I was hiding in. I sent them sweeping like a tide towards Brockton Bay, the ethereal swarm soon enveloping the city in a dense fog. No doubt the PRT and the Protectorate would respond once they realise the fog wasn’t natural, but I didn’t plan to stick around long enough for them to link it to me. I then called on the Blight upon Brockton Bay, but tweaked it so that instead of killing all the plant life and non-sentient animals in the city, I specifically targeted the rats, insects and other creatures no one will miss. The dead provided me with fuel for more constructs, more wraiths and I added them to my tide. I split myself into two and moved to my targets for the night.

I had designated two targets as a show of my power, a group of neo-Nazis called Empire 88’s safe house that bordered downtown and Azn Bad Boys turf and a Merchant gang’s drug distribution warehouse in the slums north of the city. I reappeared above both of my targets at once and began my demonstration. For the E88 apartment block that acted as a safe house, I unleashed the decaying stench of the Swamp, sending every last Neo-Nazi inside the building abandoning like rats fleeing a gassing by pest exterminators. Once I was certain that there were no humans or Nazis inside the block, I twisted the air currents there, allowing the wind to build up into an eddying gale while simultaneously, I gathered thick storm clouds over the Merchant drug point, sending streaks of lighting crashing onto the roof of the warehouse and the floor to scare the inhabitants into fleeing.

I projected my voice loud and clear via my split self in both locations. Never let it be said I played favourites between drug addled gangbangers and skinheads.

“ A very good evening, subhuman scum of the Empire, Nazis, crackheads, meth heads, possible humans and other assorted degenerate wastes of human life. I am your host tonight and for your viewing pleasure, I like to introduce this little performance I named Sturm und Drang in heh, honour, of our Germanphile Empire skinheads who probably don’t really speak Deutsch beyond sieg heil. “

I dropped the hammer.

The building winds ripped off the top two floors of the five floor apartment block and shattered the windows. The doors blew open on the lower floors, pinning several unfortunate Nazis against the surviving buildings in the area while the survivor began firing wildly into the general direction of my voice. Over at Merchant drug den, the lighting gathered into a giant wave that fell onto the warehouse and flattened it, leaving it a carbonised smoking ruin. I watched as the gathered Merchants, wearing their tags of a green M over two dollar signs began running around. Well, the sober and clear headed ones. Through the Blight and the wraith fog, I felt several living creatures still within the ruined warehouse.

One in particular appears to be growing stronger…Oh? Oh!

I sensed several PRT vans accompanying emergency services rushing towards the E88 safe house, which makes sense. People actually care about some place closer to downtown rather than the northern slums where the birds are rumoured to fly upside down because there is nothing worth crapping on. Sensing no parahuman response to my invitation on the Empire side, I ended my play with the skinheads by depriving them of precious air and hastened the process by using the air denied them to strike them in the chest to knock the wind out of them. One particularly burly Nazi required me to actually reach out through the Blight onto his shadow and slam him into a wall before he went down. Feeling curious, I reached into his mind by sending a wraith to possess him, before I pulled it out as I stifled a laugh.

Body trembling with mirth, I merged both selves together before I allowed myself a belly laugh. Our dear friend Eric had his father who brought him into the Empire abandon him and his ideals after marrying a woman from India and converting to Islam. Sufi Islam! Though the part of him gunning down his new parents and their commune was decidedly less chuckle worthy. I started to calm down and was wiping my tears when I felt a gigantic hand formed of burnt iron roof, brick and some dirt grab me and began to squeeze.

I admired the initiative and courage on display by the parahuman opponent I was facing. Instead of running away cowed by my display of power, this Merchant cape made full use of my moment of distraction and went for the kill, figuring a Shaker and Blaster should be weak enough to kill if he moved fast and seized the day. I contemplated killing him and raising him as a wraith servant, with an actual body and his powers intact instead of having him thrown into the tide of ghosts swirling around him. But no, his drug addiction was something I’d rather not have to touch in the process of raising him. Decision made, I gave the ever growing mass of wrecked warehouse, pavement and other garbage that now reached 20 feet tall a level gaze. The pressure being applied onto my body makes it hard for me to speak, but I still tried to but I found even my enhanced body could not squeeze out the air to form the words.

So I decided to use the wraiths circling in the air as a mouth piece instead. Their collective voice was haunting and moaning as the wind carried their message.

“Your name is Mush, isn’t it? Unhand me or I will remove it.” Seeing no response from the growing mass except increased strength and pain, I directed waves of my wraiths onto the garbage hand crushing me, empowering them before I made them glow and explode. The ensuing din caused my ears to ring and disoriented me, while the stench of burning garbage assaulted my nostrils. I took to the sky once again and took stock of my appearance. My anger grew as I saw bits of carbonized roof, crumbling brick and bits of a shattered syringe stuck onto my mantle. My dark curly hair I was so proud of stunk and was messy with bits of trash marring the wavy appearance.

I growled at the desecration this parasite had done to me. I materialised the Witch Staff in my right hand, and crouched into a lunging position with the golden spearhead pointing towards the vaguely human shaped mass of filth that was Mush.

“You parasite.” I growled in a low bass as black flame enveloped me before I burst into a flying charge towards the now rising Mush. The air around me burned up and I hit my target before I noticed the sound of burning air and my war cry. A bright flash and Mush’s trash colossus burst into large chunks that scattered into bits of fine dust, while I spotted a naked, goblin like bald man flung out from the epicentre of my thrust. I called upon the wind to prevent him from becoming a red smear on a wall or the floor as they formed an air cushion absorbing the impact and gently set down the criminal cape. My senses tingled again as I spotted a man in a white suit with red racing stripes and a matching red hood and mask appear suddenly next to the fallen Merchant, taking his pulse. The visible relaxation from the Protectorate hero’s posture as he retracted his hands told me that I had not killed anyone tonight. Not directly anyway.

So Velocity was fast enough he can sneak up near me before my senses can catch him even with my wraiths and the Blight being active. Yet another worrying factor to consider. Cape life is getting very tiresome. I wanted to consider myself a hero, but Mom had told me that even the best of intentions and actions when seen from another angle can be viewed sinisterly, especially if they have an incentive to do so. Several other local heroes were also approaching me, backed by PRT vans no doubt carrying troopers with some serious firepower to attempt to subdue me. Deciding I had enough excitement for one night, I ignored Velocity’s hailing of me and faded away before reappearing on the corner of Lord Street. No point leading the PRT and the Protectorate into my home especially if it’s possible they have some Tinkertech to track down my teleportation.

I was about to teleport back to my room, before I felt a tear form in the sky which screamed teleporter to my senses. A black circle formed a mere three feet from my left, and I raised my spear as a figure in a blue skirt and mantle stepped out of the portal. I eyed the rapier hanging on her side warily as I connected the long brown hair, sharp attractive features, red ribbon and black and white stripped stockings.

Musketeer. An unmasked cape who got into a very public fight with Purity years ago and then disappeared from the radar. Her bright, wide blue eyes blinked to reorient themselves before noticing me.

“Ah, Ms Taylor Hebert correct?” The blue clad cape spoke in Continental. Well, I guess the total disregard for cape identity is something that’s widespread among Mom’s old friends. At least Aunt Aldra when she goes out as Gorgon on the rare occasion to go a few rounds with Brandish gives a hoot about keeping secret identities.

“Who wants to know?” I replied as surly a tone as possible. The European cape didn’t seem very put off by my attitude, her irritatingly bright smile still stuck on her face.

“Regent Aldra told me you’d be here. I’m here to extend an invitation to you.” Okay, correction. Aunt Aldra cares about her own identity. Not so much for her niece if she tells any old acquaintance my ID.

“What kind of invitation?” I decided to humour her while fully prepared to reject any kind of recruitment spiel.

“An open invitation to Gainos. Once you’re thirteen and the mourning period for the Queen is over, we’re restarting the Queen’s Blade!”

/////////////////

Emma Barnes sighed with resignation as she knocked on the door to the apartment as loudly as she can. She could hardly believe that Mom had insisted she and her sister Anne were to attend etiquette classes six months after she turned ten. The redhead suspected her mom was losing it after failing to regain her social position when Mrs Hebert had stepped down from her position as top dog, while Anne basically blew off the lessons at any chance she got, which is all of them. Ms de Vaux after all wasn’t the type to inform her mom if Anne or she didn’t appear for their scheduled lessons.

“Must be asleep again.” Emma mumbled as the afternoon sun beat down on her back. Giving another sharp rap on the wooden door, she heard the sounds of metal falling onto the floor. Fearing for her tutor’s safety, the young girl knocked again. While her teacher’s condition has improved and she no longer required twelve hours of sleep, she still had times when she fell into a deep sleep.

“Ms de Vaux? Are you there? Answer me!” Emma stumbled forward after the door opened suddenly and fell face first into an ample bosom belonging to a blonde woman with purple eyes and waist long hair. The eyes of the apartment’s tenant was bleary from sleep, but Emma wondered how her tutor always looked so perfect. Even Mrs Hebert at her best day could not match the sheer perfection of her skin, proportions or how there’s never a single hair out of place except when she wanted it. Her sister Anne had once teased her that if Emma wasn’t two to three decades younger than their blonde teacher, she might consider pairing them together. Not that Ms de Vaux looked old or anything. She looked barely a day beyond twenty two and Emma had once seen her teacher at the pool before. The way the muscles that hid under her slender arms moved was a work of art and the perfect movements of her breast stroke the masterful score to go with the opera.

“Told you to call me Maria. I don’t really like people calling me by my surname.”

“Because it makes you feel old?” The redhead teased her tutor who laughed lightly in return.

“Come in. And watch out for Edenfeld. I was polishing her when my sickness caused me to doze off again.”

Emma nodded silently as she walked into the elegantly designed apartment. The broadsword that lied on the table with the spreading golden wings on the hilt and that black metal piece with a red jewel encased at the tip of the blade. The sword was a work of art. It was also horribly sharp as she learnt when her finger touched the supposed blunt side and got a nasty cut. No wonder it meant Wind of Victory in the language of her makers.

“I will keep it in mind, Maria.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I really don’t want to be the local PRT Director right now.


	11. Interlude 1-PRT

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The PRT takes a look at Taylor's debut

Interlude 1: PRT  
/////////////////////////////

Armsmaster looked over the wreckage of the former Merchant drug distribution point, while hazmat teams started taping off potential contamination sites. The air was filled with the slurred swearing and groans of the Merchants who alternated between threats, gibberish and sometimes even workable Intel on their mysterious new cape. The smell of ozone and burning chemicals filled the air while his filtration system built into his suit worked overtime at identifying the pollutants that last fracas had released into the atmosphere. The armoured hero watched with satisfaction as Mush was sprayed with containment foam before being fitted into a PRT armoured van, the face of the goblin like villain covered with a simple ski mask.

If only the new arrival had not caused so much property damage and so thoroughly destroyed the crime scene, preventing a proper prosecution of the unpowered criminals, she would have made her mark as a proper hero and a great first impression. Armsmaster felt a great amount of pity for the wasted opportunity since the visual of her powers cast a very sinister impression of her image.

That her Shaker powers cloaked the city in a layer of eerie fog. How she projected her voice in a wailing moan through her constructs that resembled an army of ghosts that sent shivers down even the most hardened of gangbangers. And of course her demonic visage albeit one that radiated dark beauty were all almost lethal hits against her image.

It was almost criminal that someone like her would likely end up as a very short lived Independent hero if trends regarding new capes were to go by, or how she might end up gang pressed into the many criminal groups carving up the city. Armsmaster shook his head in resignation and turned his attention to Velocity, who had just finished debriefing the BPD’s response team ranking officer and was walking towards him.

“So, was she friendly or hostile?” Armsmaster asked his fellow hero brusquely. The speedster took no offense as he replied.

“Neither. She appeared rather upset of course, but when I observed the fight, she was apparently angrier at how Mush had soiled her costume rather than the fact that Mush was attempting to squish her like a trash compactor.”

Armsmaster scratched his beard as he pondered over the given info.

“So, our new parahuman wasn’t affected at all by Mush’s death grip?” The speedster shook his head and pointed to his own throat.

“I saw her throat move when Mush was applying the squeeze, but I guess his grip was too tight because there was no sound coming out. There must have been tremendous pressure on her lungs.”

The Tinker hero’s eyebrows raised in alarm at the observation offered.

“And you said she used her constructs as some kind of Blaster/Striker combo when she directed her constructs to converge on Mush’s arm before they started to glow and explode?”

Armsmaster nodded in agreement as he upped the potential threat level of the new cape. Brute, Mover, Shaker, Master, Striker and Blaster, all potentially in the double digits if they were being cautious. If her spear and costume were made by her, then a Tinker as well.

“She is simply too valuable to be given up to the gangs.” The armoured hero said decisively to his co-worker. “I will advise Director Piggot of this development at once and ask for an all-out recruitment attempt.”

////////////////////

Director Emily Piggot looked up from the report presented to her by the new Protectorate head, steel grey eyes piercing and judging at the armoured hero in front of her.

“So you’re suggesting that after the new arrival had engaged in massive property damage, endangered public safety by flooding the city in a thick fog that rendered most of our cameras useless at a range beyond three feet and sent seventy six criminals to hospital, with twenty five critically injured, she should be approached with a recruitment offer rather than a warrant for her arrest?”

The corpulent woman with a short bob cut blonde hair laid back into her chair, as she laid her hands on the table pressing down.

“While we do recruit former villains into our ranks, we do take care to ensure they’re reformed and can contribute to the mission.” The director held out a plump finger to forestall a protest from Armsmaster as she continued, “Mist Phantom’s debut has caused as much destruction as Lung’s. The only reason we are discussing this is only because she had caused no fatalities, and even then it might not have been so If not for outside intervention.”

“Outside Intervention?” Armsmaster didn’t like the look in Piggot’s eyes as she replied or how she had casually name dropped the PRT’s designated cape name for the new parahuman.

“It was Gorgon.” The armoured hero’s lips thinned in annoyance at the mention of the Rogue cape. He had attempted to recruit her a year after she debuted by saving Amy Dallon, but the silver haired parahuman got annoyed and petrified him with her amber stare, then she doodled on the amber with markers and took some photos she posted on PHO. The amber eventually faded away after three hours, but the stain of being sucker punched had not. No one calls him Armsie and Halbeard.

“Ms Militia and that Ward Dauntless were on patrol when the fog descended.” The obese director continued. “They spotted Gorgon roof hopping towards the Empire apartment block. The only reason that the two floors, the doors and broken windows didn’t crush people some four miles away was because Gorgon had intercepted them with hitherto unseen Blaster powers, Mover reflexes and also two soft toy constructs resembling a red eye patched teddy bear and a green frog that spews fire and acid.”

Armsmaster found his grasp on the potential new recruit slipping away, but decided to make one last ditch effort.

“Mist Phantom may not have considered the ramifications of using her powers carefully. All the more we as experienced parahumans ought to guide her to use them responsibly.”

Emily Piggot nodded in assent to the statement made by the head of the Protectorate ENE, causing some relief to the armoured hero.

“I agree, Armsmaster. Which is why I am issuing a warrant for the arrest of Mist Phantom so that we may offer her a probationary position after we bring her in.”


	12. Arc 1.6 Possession

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Taylor deals with aftermath of her debut, gets some...advise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here on out, unless otherwise specified it is going to Taylor’s POV. So I’m going to stop naming them after the viewpoint characters.

////////

I stared bemused at Musketeer and the invitation she had just handed to me. It was a tissue lined Nile blue envelope with rich red and gold embroidery hand woven into the borders. The front of the envelope had Continental cursive script written in a delicate handwriting that was a marvel to read and the back had a red wax seal that bore the fleur-de-lis over a right facing stallion’s head facing right.

My eyes narrowed as I saw the family crest of my mother’s family. I glanced at the European cape who was watching me with an expectant look. Sighing, I broke open the wax seal with my still transformed fingers and pulled out a letter written on cream coloured paper that was scented with perfume.

“You’re not going home until I’ve read it, aren’t you?” I drawled at Musketeer before I read the missive, not waiting for the expected answer.

Duo Septidi, Month of Thermidor

Miss Taylor Anne Hebert von Kreutz

77 Sovereign Drive, Brockton Bay,

New England, United States of America, Earth Bet.

Invitation to the Thirty Second Queen’s Blade.

To the esteemed Miss von Kreutz.

We, the Privy Council of the Continental Dominion are honoured to invite you to participate in the upcoming Queen’s Blade to decide the next Queen of the Continent, to be held after the traditional two year mourning period for Her Late Majesty Queen Annelotte Armina Alphonse von Kreutz. As a concession to your circumstances, we are offering you a seeded position straight into the finals to be held in Gainos on the first day of Thermidor.

We eagerly anticipate your arrival in two years’ time.

Best Wishes,

Co Regents of the Privy Council,

I folded the letter back into shape, not wanting to read the names of the co-signed for a letter obviously not meant for me and stuffed it back into the expensive envelop. I was intent on returning this invitation that was clearly meant for someone else back to Musketeer, not wanting to delay her any further. My wish was cut short when the portal that the European cape had used reappeared and she stepped back in, blinking out of existence. I looked at the wrongly addressed and delivered letter dumbly, before shrugging my shoulders and deciding to keep it. Not my fault that whichever group of parahumans with delusions of grandeur chose a complete flake to deliver their letter, though the fact that they used Mom’s family crest bothered me.

Hmm, now to think of it I’ve never actually met my maternal grandparents except for once when I had barely turned five. I know Werbellia claims to be my grandmother, but she also claims to be my sister and she ranges from unreliable at best to a habitual liar at worst when it comes to her past and our relations. Well, more like she mixes the truth with the strings of lies she weaves when speaking of her history. If she is to be believed, I inherited the powers of a world ending monstrosity. Werbellia is actually a demonic princess who got body jacked by a malevolent spirit. Said spirit had murdered almost all the male children below the age of twelve on an alternate Earth some thirteen decades ago.

I stopped paying attention to my phantom relation sometime around the time she fell in love with the Pope Stephen, since based on my research the last Pope with that name died sometime in 1058 CE.

I called it a night and withdrew the Blight from Brockton when I heard the sound of someone landing softly on rooftops approaching. Smokey and his friends allowed me to spy the image of Aunt Aldra in her cape ID Gorgon, which caught me by surprise even as I made the mental switch to start referring to her cape name. Her scheduled fight with Brandish wasn’t supposed to be two more nights after the Dallon matriarch was done with her latest trial. My aunt dismissed Belphe and Dolgor back to the Dallon home as she approached me while I waved that fancy invitation as Gorgon got closer, certain that Musketeer was probably one of the old cape contacts Mom and Aldra had kept in touch with.

Gorgon’s red eyes were heavy with expectation as she looked at the invitation in my hands. It was also the most serious look I’ve ever seen on my ever cheerful aunt since Mom’s funeral.

“I see Alicia has passed you the invitation. Are you going to join the Queen’s Blade once the date arrives?” Well, no surprises that another blade wielding unmasked cape with a whole grab bag of powers is linked to my mother and aunt. Mom’s old comrades seem to have a theme of elaborate and revealing costumes, sharp melee weapons, not caring too much about cape IDs and also being ridiculously attractive.

“Pass. Brockton Bay isn’t the best place to live anywhere, but it’s still better than Europe which has whole swathes of the place being under virtual control of parahuman warlords. They even got my name wrong too.”

“It’s the Continent, Tay. Not Europe, the Continent.” Gorgon is getting more stubborn recently on using her terminology regarding how to address the European mainland. Dad had once told me that Mom was part of Lustrum before it became violent, but she obviously didn’t inform him that she had apparently signed on with their European spinoff and was a cape leader. Feeling that there was no point in pushing the issue, I decided to switch topics.

“Leaving my decision to not engage in a cockfight for title of local warlord aside, Aunt. Is there a reason you’re out in costume tonight? You don’t go on patrols and your fight with Brandish is two nights away.” Wine red eyes narrowed in annoyance as they glared at me, making me feel sheepish at something I might have done. Aunt Aldra didn’t send a chill down my spine when she lectures me like Mom did, but she was far better at getting me to feel guilty when she does her finger wagging act, like she is doing now.

“I was out there preventing things from going really pear shaped, Tay!” The silver haired cape fumed as she adopted her Berate Taylor stance of placing one hand on her hip and the other wagging her finger in my face, “I’m all for laying down the smack down on some druggies and skinheads, but you could have really killed several dozen people when you ripped two floors off an apartment block and blew up that warehouse filled with Merchants high as kites.”

“I gave them ample warning!” I protested at her condemnation of my actions.” The release of the stench of the Swamp drove out the inhabitants of the apartment and my warning shots lets them know staying inside isn’t safe!”

“Did you ever consider that blasting gigantic lightning bolts in a warehouse full of drug filled junkies or ripping off entire floors, doors and windows might prompt people to seek shelter inside the building?” My silver haired aunt shook her head in disappointment. I winced at the reaction Gorgon was showing, wondering if I had overdid it in my attempt to test my powers against someone not Mom or Gorgon.

“I swear, Werbellia, you’re almost as bad an influence that Anne and I had feared. I knew letting you guide Taylor through her magic was a bad idea.”

Wait what? Mom and Aunt Aldra knows about Werbellia? My phantom relative appeared next to me, her arms folded wearing a glowering expression directed at Aunt Aldra.

“When did you and Anne know?” Annoyance laced with trepidation tinged her voice as she came out to face the music. Despite her face being mostly covered by the brass spines, I could still make out the smirk on Gorgon’s face just from the side of her exposed eyes

“About the same time Anne placed the geas on Emma. Did you really think Anne wouldn’t recognise your cackling?” Werbellia looked sullen as she remained silent, a sharp contrast to her usual demeanour of being insufferably smug and chatty. Since I now have confirmation that my phantom imaginary friend wasn’t so imaginary, I took the opportunity to ask Gorgon if Werbellia really is my grandmother.

“Only in the sense she gave birth to me and Annelotte,” Gorgon snarled out Mom’s French name as she seemed to recollect some very unpleasant memories. “Anne was lucky enough to be picked up by a good foster family, no thanks to her.”

“So are you going to do something about me corrupting your little precious, or are you going to just keep yammering over there, Aldra?” Despite her posturing, my phantom relation couldn’t really do anything. I knew because the few times Werbellia had tried to exert any kind of control over me, it took me almost no effort to brush her off. The stronger I get, the weaker her presence felt. I estimated once pass my thirteenth birthday, Werbellia would be gone, give or take a few months. It wasn’t something I liked thinking about too much especially after losing Mom. Werbellia despite her eccentricities cared for me and taught me in her own way, even if she seemed to equate people with the weeds that grew rampant in the yard. Even now, I felt some measure of pride my grandmother had for me as Gorgon measured her up before the cape shrugged her shoulders.

“Honestly? We’d do nothing for now. Once you’ve been served notice that I’m watching and the fact that lacking a body means all your powers are locked up within Taylor, you’re really nothing more a projection with very limited freedom of movement.” I felt Werbellia’s anger boil over at the dismissal by her daughter but I kept a strong grip on her, preventing her from doing anything other than glower. “If Tay wanted to, you’d never be able to appear outside of her mind. “ Gorgon then once again directed her ruby eyed gaze at me, as she spoke in a low growl to drive home her point.

“Tay, next time if you ever have strange people in your head telling you to do something like raising zombies or desecrate some graves, let me know, okay? I like being warned beforehand if my only living relative is going to turn crazy evil.”

“Yes, ma’am.” I muttered under my breath while sulking. Mom would have shot me a death glare for this little display of prepubescent defiance, but Gorgon started winding up for another tirade.

“Don’t you give me that attitude, young lady. You have any idea how badly you hurt those Empire members or Merchants?” My aunt’s rage built steadily as she tore into me. “Choking the life out of them, have you not read up what happens to people with oxygen deprivation? Unconsciousness can lead to brain death! Lighting could have given those Merchants heart attacks!” Her spine covered face closed in as she glared at me, her right arm gripping her red sword tightly.

“Out of the forty odd skinheads you sent to the hospital, a dozen or so are still in a coma! Your debut could have marked you as a mass murderer!” I felt my heckles rise as Gorgon defended the Empire. Those were racist gangsters she was talking about!

“Those were skinheads and drug pushers you’re talking about!”

“Those were people, Tay! Annelotte didn’t give the last decade of her life raising a murderer!” My aunt roared at me as I hurriedly cloaked Gorgon and myself in a cloak of shadow when I noticed some of the lights turning on from the neighbouring houses. Turning my attention back to my aunt, I noticed her trembling with rage while hurt and disappointment clouded her eyes. She withdrew the metal spines covering her face as her distraught expression was bared for me to see and I felt my anger evaporate, replaced with the cold grip of guilt. It was becoming a trend lately, Aunt Aldra and Mom shooting me looks of betrayal and disappointment at my actions.

I couldn’t even blame Werbellia for it. She had told me to use my powers, but I was the one who chose to disregard potential dangers and used the most expedient method because I was too focused on getting to the fun part of fighting Mush. I lowered my head in shame and untransformed while addressing my aunt. It wasn’t right for Taylor Hebert to hide behind the Witch when she chose to do the wrong thing.

“I’m sorry, Auntie. I…I would promise to not use my powers again, but you and I both know that’s not possible.” I shivered from the desire for penance weighing on me as I spoke, realization dawning on me how close I had gone to leaping the line. “I promise instead to ensure that I will think carefully when using them from now on, to make sure I don’t end up as someone Mom would be ashamed of.”

“Or something, Tay.” Aunt Aldra blinked as her eyes watered. She gave me a relived smile as she hugged me while I silently took in the scent of her hair that smelled of roses. Quite unlike Mom in that regard. I felt my own eyes sting with tears as I remembered the smell of her own perfume that she wore even as she was dying, the scent of jasmine and lilies.

“I’ve told Belphe and Dolgor to pass a message to Amy when they return. She will attend to those who’re suffering the most serious injuries.” My aunt paused for a beat before continuing, “That burly skinhead whom you threw against the wall and invaded his mind is currently in a critical condition, so she will go for him first.”

I wanted to look Aunt Aldra in her eyes and demand to know how she deduced I had entered the mind of that Nazi Eric, but then deduced she was probably monitoring me while I was laughing over his ironic personal tragedy and had put two and two together. I felt my aunt pull away from the hug and looked me in the eyes solemnly.

“Promise me. Tell me if you ever want to go out and use your powers again.”

////////////////

Breakfast after Mom’s passing were always a rather tense affair. Dad had taken Mom’s passing in a bad way that went beyond someone who was mourning the death of his wife. I had heard through either Smokey or even Werbellia when she was feeling particularly gossipy that Dad had developed a complex at being left out of the loop. That my mother was mysterious was an understatement since she seemed to have a lot baggage even for a retired cape. I only knew of her active hero days through piecing together conversations with Dad who spoke of her days in Lustrum, Aunt Aldra and the few times I spoke with her old cape comrades on Europe.

I at least knew of Mom’s past even if indirectly, but Dad seemed to be under the impression that Mom was never a parahuman. I walked down the stairs, following the smell of grilled fish and mirin mixed with egg. Aunt Aldra has a penchant for using Japanese inspired flavours in her cooking, and though Dad and I never really developed a taste for Asian cooking, my aunt was enough to convert us to her preferred diet occasionally when she does the cooking. I spotted Dad’s heavyset figure on the couch In front of the off TV, fiddling with the tape recorder that Mom apparently used to log an audio book before she abandoned it when she re-established contact with her old cape friends after Aunt Aldra arrived.

I felt my heart ache as I notice Dad was sitting a bit to the side, as if anticipating Mom to stroll out of her atelier to plop down next to him on the couch. I felt sorry for him in ways that I find hard to express in words and also guilt for hiding so many things from him. I summoned my courage and put on my carefully calibrated cheerful expression I copied from Mom. Dealing with the Merchants and the Empire was easier than dealing with my father.

“Hi Dad!” I walked up to his right, carefully avoiding the spot that Mom would have occupied. My father looked up at me and gave me a small smile while he placed the recorder on the coffee table. “Good morning, Taylor. Is my little fireball burning as brightly today as ever?” My smile turned genuine as I detected the trace cheer in his tone, glad that Dad had somewhat recovered from his sorrow induced apathy after the death of my mother.

“Might just scorch you, Dad. What are you doing with Mom’s old tape recorder?” My father picked up the tape recorder again, looking intently at it as he replied.

“I was just trying to finish up her book that she was recording before she gave up sometime after you were eight. Figures it would be nice if I can transcribe what she had recorded, finish it and get it published as a memory.” The sounds of the cutlery being set on the dining table by Aunt Aldra acted as the score as I leaned on Dad’s shoulder while looking at the small recorder.

“So you need help translating her work Dad? I think Mom mentioned to me she recorded it all in French.” Dad gave a small chuckle as he shook his head slowly to decline my offer.

“Don’t you worry, little Ms Perfect. I have been taking some French lessons in my spare time and I want this to be my personal tribute to her. I even translated her title she had decided for her story.” The sound of setting cutlery ceased.

I laughed lightly, glad to see Dad making the first steps to dealing effectively with his grief.

“What’s the name that Mom came up with?”

“La guerre de Thunder or the War of Thunder in English. I noticed a lot of background details and world building though. Your mom was very thorough.” We both turned towards a sudden crashing sound from the dining table and saw Aunt Aldra picking up some cutlery she had dropped. My aunt turned towards us with a sheepish look.

“Oops! Butter fingers.” She said in a stage whisper while winking at us. My aunt quickly took the dropped forks and spoons back to the kitchen and emerged with a new pair, setting them on the table. She looked at us before gesturing towards the spread of grilled whole fish, fried egg cut into perfect squares sweetened with mirin and rice with black tea served in mugs for Dad and myself.

“Why don’t we eat first so that Danny can discuss my sister’s flight of fancy later on?”

///////////////////////////////

After breakfast and Dad returned to the union office for his first day of work after his compassionate leave, I followed Aunt Aldra to her tea shop she had set up. It was a shop that sold Asian and Western confectionary, though my aunt herself wore a beige kimono with cloud patterns to serve her customers.

My aunt’s tea shop was located at Strathmore Avenue, close enough to the Boardwalk to attract tourists with expandable cash from out of town feeling slightly more adventurous and far enough that the Boardwalks hired security team didn’t deem it fit to be included in their area of operations and the expanded costs that entails. It was also in the borders of ABB turf, but after Kenta-san, a very tall and muscular Japanese man with tattoos still visible under his shirt had walked in to the shop like he owned the place and got a thorough but somehow extremely polite dressing down by Aunt Aldra, there had been no attempts by the ABB to impose their protection on this place. One of the gaped mouth customers who watched the whole scene had told me that Aunt Aldra had used a very formal, courtly Japanese dialect that was almost extinct after Japan was plunged into chaos. Kenta had watched the resplendent red kimono Aunt Aldra changed to for the encounter, her elaborate headdress and the tea ceremony that Aunt Aldra performed on his first and subsequent visit and declared her an Asian cultural treasure to be preserved.

The large Asian man also gave my aunt a name- Aldora. It ticked her off to no end when Kenta-san used it on his monthly visits. Aunt Aldra almost always had the stately tea room ready for him to relieve his homesickness. Amy had once expressed concern if Kenta, a dead ringer for Lung in his civilian guise, was threatening or extorting my aunt directly to Aunt Aldra herself. My aunt then smirked and showed the stacks of dollar bills Kenta-san paid for his visit.

“Not all needs can be satisfied by gang-pressing people, Amy. Even if it’s for people who are as welcome as my period and are twice as bloody.” The sly smile Aunt Aldra spotted as she imparted her life wisdom to us was one that seared into my mind.

I decided to help out Aunt Aldra as she prepared for the lunch crowd and the subsequent stream of idle socialites who would wean away their hours at our tables. Both my parents had approved of this, saying that working in the service industry helped make people humble and built interpersonal skills. I was looking at the mirror in the employee’s changing room after I had put on my uniform to finalise my touch up to the make up when I heard the bell ring, signifying a customer. Muttering under my breath of illiterate customers who can’t read the “Closed” sign on the front door, my prepared greeting and dismissal died in my mouth as I spotted three of my best friends.

“Any! Ems! Vicki! Come on in!” I gestured them to a table which I shared with them. Vicki got the ball rolling when she decided to bring up her sister’s crush on Aunt Aldra.

“So, Tay? Is Ms Aldra going to be wearing that red number that shows off that awesome old lady cleavage she has.” Amy looked at her blonde sister, fuming as she yelled out her protest.

“Ms Aldra certainly is NOT old! And I don’t want to see her chest either!” Vicki smirked as she continued to banter with her sis.

“Ms Aldra’s the same age as our mom, Amy. She’s definitely old for us.” This was when Emma surprised us by butting in.

“Sorry to interrupt girls, but I must say Amy isn’t interested in Ms Aldra’s cleavage.” My redhead friend demonstrated her talent for twisting the knife when she continued.

“Our young miracle healer is into butts. And Ms Aldra has the most shapely one I’ve seen anyone old enough to have ridden dinosaurs to school have!” Our table burst into laughter before Emma tapped me on the shoulder and gestured towards the employee room. I excused Emma and me as we left the table and my friend locked the door of the employee room once inside.

“That was you last night. Gorgon doesn’t give a singular damn about cape affairs unless Carol Dallon annoyance is involved. But I guess her niece going on her first cape fight against two of the largest gangs in Brockton ought to concern her enough. Why didn’t you bring in the ABB and complete the trifecta, Mist Phantom?” Emma looked annoyed that I hadn’t given her the heads up before my little excursion last night and I can’t really blame her. I was the one who trusted her enough to leak my parahuman status to her after all. I was disappointing a lot of people lately.

“Sorry about that, Ems. Will be keeping you in the know from now on.” My eyes narrowed as I chewed on the cape name that the PRT had apparently labelled me with, and I found the morsel tasteless.

“Mist Phantom? All those Thinkers and Tinkers and this is the only one they can come up with? Why not call me Rain Ghost or Fog Hag?” Emma giggled as she gave her own contribution.

“Fog’s taken, though the Empire didn’t leave the hag part in.” We shared a laugh before Emma sobered up and asked me.

“Gorgon’s fight tomorrow with Brandish. You going there? Not in costume I hope.”

My eyes narrowed as I guessed the gist of my friend’s message.

“I take it some of the gangs might want payback for my aunt’s involvement last night? They thought she was with me?” Emma shook her head as she leaned in and whispered.

“The PRT has posted a PSA on Parahumans Online today this morning. They’ve issued a warrant for arrest for Mist Phantom for property damage, assault, battery, reckless endangerment and also assault on a public servant.” My eyes narrowed at the last charge they’re slandering me with.

“When did I attack any of the good guys?” Emma sighed as she filled me in on the official story.

“The fog you called down last night reduced visibility of their cameras. Two of the BPD patrol cars weren’t able to see one another and hit a lamppost and they’re blaming it on you.” I winced at another revelation of unintended consequences. I was kinda responsible for that one, but I was still not going to let them take me in like some vandal. If the PRT and the Protectorate wants to meet me, it will be on my terms.

“I will discuss this with Aunt Aldra. We will then decide on paying them a visit, or simply prepare a reception for them at tomorrow’s match.”

Either way, I’m serving humble pie.

////////////

Yuit

////////////

I read the reports on the reduced Wizard stone energy consumption on the new Vante models and the progress on the self-assembly alchemical ateliers that produced parts for Vante’s newer Automata sisters and their upgrades. Court Mage Alicia’s travels on that Earth Bet and Aleph had brought back many concepts and ideas that bears a closer look at. Particularly the idea of the Eh Ai. The concept of a self-thinking, self-replicating and most importantly learning and adapting autonomous familiar or homunculi was one that most mages and alchemists had dismissed as impossible. For people who broke the laws of nature on a minutely basis, that seemed very rich but all by Cyan, my mother, had dismissed the idea of adapting and improving the Vante Automata series in the first place.

The materials though…I sighed again as she lamented the loss of Cattleya during the War of Thunder during a last stand to ensure the safe retreat of the Rebel Army. Her son Rana was a talented blacksmith and alchemist as was the husband Owen the Dragonslayer. But one was simply too young to develop and improve on his mother’s alchemical steel and Owen was too out of practice for too long. I dismissed the projection that was being done by the original Vante that stood as my body guard with a single stroke of my quill on a thin bronze plate that transmitted my commands to the Vantes around the world.

As the projection died, I was about to turn my attention back towards the tax records awaiting my approval when suddenly my Vantes eyes started glowing a bright green and all the Automatas in my room came to alive. A total of sixteen Vante were deployed, eight surrounding me deploying wave shields that were based on the Calibara mobile fortress system and the Valkyrie’s hyper vibration fields deployed by Mirim, while the others prepared their rockets, mounted rapid-fire guns and also some had their gas canisters armed and ready.

A familiar round portal made of dark light appeared near my entrance and my guard lowered upon recognising the magi mark of the Gainos Mage Corp. The eight Automate deployed withdrew while the same number of Court Mages wearing the dark angel like robes with the hoods and the small swirling galaxy that was projected when it was worn by one of the magi took position in case there was something that needed to be teleported anywhere but here post haste. The assembled mages heaved an audible sigh of relief as the blue mantle clad figure of Alicia the Shadow Mistress Mage stepped out of the portal. The brunette mage saw me and gave a waist deep bow as I told her to dispense with the formalities.

“Dame Alicia. I take it by your quick return that the young Ms von-Kreutz had received the invitation and assented?” The brunette mage’s expression soured as she shook her head.

“Forgive me, Your Excellency. After I was informed by Regent Aldra’s Minions on patrol who directed me towards the young Ms von Kreutz, I had handed over the invitation to her and was ready to answer her question when I felt myself being scryed upon?”

I tried to keep my surprise out of my voice but failed. All of our information indicates that the local parahumans were complete magical duds. If that assumption was wrong, then my plans for Bet just got killed in the crib.

“Explain, Alicia. Leave nothing out.”

“Yes, ma’am. After meeting Ms von Kreutz, I felt something probing my Mystery, the Veil of Shadow. One by one my deployed doppelgangers meant as a distraction was zeroed in, analysed and discarded by their observers. Unlike the other attempts, this particular effort was singularly focused, like a blind man who enters a maze but got an exceptional sense of smell and hearing allowing him to navigate. I set six thousand and six hundred counter scrying measures, and their power allowed them to pick out our disguised information and chart a path in less than a thousand seconds.”

“Very troubling indeed. Fortunately, it seems that they can in theory be countered going by your report. Thank you, Alicia. I need to plan.”

As the most talented court mage of her generation left my office, I pondered the implication of the report. While it appears that the parasite hosts and their strange abilities cannot directly brute force magic protections directly, they can find a way to overcome it by planning around it. It seems correct then to deduce that the parasites, their hosts and the source are unable to grasp and interact with the soul and magic until it’s made material, but once it is, then they can attempt to shackle it with their manipulation of the natural laws, like the one that tried to pin down Alicia by going around her barriers and walls.

For now, I will have to keep contact to Aldra via the Vox projectors. The Royal Mystery appears still impregnable and undetectable to the parahumans so far, but I will not sit idly by.

Should the agreed scenario of possible war and conquest of the Earths retain a plausible chance of victory, then our main advantage of our magic, alchemy and knowledge of the immaterial must remain unknown to the enemy. I contacted one of my subordinates to deal with the tax code reform issues, while I focused on the more pressing matter of increasing our advantage.

Our Eh Ai project Connaissance must go online, and very soon.


	13. Arc 1.7 Possession

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mist Phantom puts on a show.

Arc 1.7 Possession

///////////////////

Apparently, Aunt Aldra wasn’t quite as upset as I was about the fact the PRT had put out a warrant for my arrest. In fact, my silver haired aunt who was now wearing her hair in light lavender was positively sanguine about it and didn’t even pause in washing the dishes after the lunch rush while she listened to me complaining about the local cape authorities.

“Would be weird if they didn’t put out a notice, Tay. You smashed a warehouse into the ground with lighting while ripping off two floors off an apartment block at the same time in two different parts of the city.” I fumed silently while my aunt finished the cleaning and turned off the water and began to wipe her hands. “That you vanished after one of their more friendly capes tried to approach you probably didn’t help your case in their eyes.” Aunt Aldra then set the last of the plates to dry before she turned to leave the kitchen. Fuming at her lack of reaction to my plight, I stomped after her and held onto her arm. My aunt sighed in resignation as she turned to face me, mild irritation visible on her face.

“Honestly, the PRT isn’t that unreasonable when it comes to new triggers, which as far as the PRT is aware you are one.” I grit my teeth in frustration at my aunt’s siding with outsiders over continued. “No one died this time round, and it helps that the safe house held many of the Empire’s skinheads who have active warrants against them so they’re more likely to treat you like an indie hero who went a bit overboard then an outright villain.”

I clenched my jaw in disappointment as I asked my aunt whom I thought I knew so well,” So you’re suggesting that I hand myself to the PRT like some teen vandal and place myself that their tender mercies?” My aunt gave me a blank look before she burst into laughter. Rounded ears turned sharp and her hair reverted to their natural silver as she wiped away tears of laughter. Apparently, my aunt found my predicament so amusing her Changer state triggered.

“Goodness, no!” Aunt Aldra breathed out as she calmed down. She gave me a predatory smile which exposed her fangs as she spoke to me, “Anne and I have always considered ourselves as following the right path, rather than the lawful path. If the law is an ass, then the law can go hang. Minions follow the law to the letter. Heroes follow the right ways! Neither me or Anne have raised some minion to be ordered around.”

Ruby eyes lit up with contempt as my silver haired aunt continued, disgust dripping from her tone.

“Besides, since when did we Bellesoldats give up one of our own to offworlders for judgement? No one touches one of us but us!”

My face brightened with a wide smile as my aunt proved herself to be firmly on my side. I eagerly clasped her hand and began bouncing on the heels of my feet.

“So what’s the plan, oh mighty Gorgon? Do we wait for them to inevitably appear and crash your planned match with Brandish tomorrow night?”

I could see Aunt Aldra’s mouthful of shark like fangs as she smiled.

“Nothing of the sort. You’d risk being outed to the New Wave officially and things get…messy.” My aunt pondered for a while, before she came to a decision.

“We visit them tonight in two hours’ time. And we’re not leaving until they know not to step on our toes again. “My breath quickened along with my heartbeat as I caught the implication of her words. Even in New England, the sun doesn’t set during summer at four o’clock in the afternoon.

“So I can, you know?” I pointed skywards and Aunt Aldra gave me a simple nod. I whooped in delight and pumped my fists at the permission granted. Mom had forbid me from doing that and never got around to lifting the restriction on me before she passed on.

Mom’s seal on my powers have long passed, but I didn’t intend to break a promise made to her now that she’s gone. But if Aunt Aldra who took over my training gave me permission…

“But first, we must make sure you’re presentable. Would not want you to look bad in front of the cameras for your follow up performance now would we?”

Cameras? Is Aunt Aldra going to the media? I felt nervousness stir as I unconsciously adjusted my hair as if the cameras were already rolling.

My aunt placed her hands on my shoulders as she looked me over. I could see the twinkling approval in her eyes as she appraised me before she nodded in satisfaction.

“Good. Your human body is growing up nicely. Now transform into your demon form.” I rolled my eyes at my aunt’s peculiar choice of terminology even as I switched to my Changer form, gaining curves, horns and a new tail snaking out from beneath my skirt that’s mostly bone with a spade made of dark reptilian hide at the tip. It felt awkward to have the wind and friction blowing on bare bones as I tested this new appendage. Aunt Aldra grabbed the middle of my tail, prompting a surprised yelp from me at the sudden movement and I swiped at her with my tail on reflex. She calmly grabbed the other end of my tail attacking her with her left hand and she pored over it intently before giving a satisfied nod.

“A bit macabre, but it fits into your image of the dark beauty.” Aunt Aldra unhanded my tail which quickly retracted back towards me as I took the opportunity to examine my latest limb personally. Looking me over again, my aunt passed her judgement on me,

“If your demon form is any indication, you’ll almost be as much a knockout as your mother was in a year or two. Emma and Victoria are both going to be gorgeous, but they’d be second rate compared to you.” I smiled proudly and preened automatically. Mom had instilled in me a love for aesthetics and respect for one’s own appearance that bordered on the obsessive. Mom’s genes helped, but she worked hard to look that good.

“A pity that you’d be ordinary back home on the Continent, Tay. I guess that’s one place she missed out on when she did her magic on you.” My thanks to Aunt Aldra died a bitter death on my lips and I glared daggers at her.

My aunt had always emphasized on how a cape, or to borrow her strange terminology a Bellesoldat, must always look good especially in combat. Musketeer and Aunt Aldra were both conscious about their looks akin to a Tinker and his tech. If Aunt Aldra is any indication, all the capes who call themselves Bellesoldats believed in the same creed. In a match looking good is almost as important as winning at the end of it. Aunt Aldra then stepped a few steps away from me, before she told me to do something weird even by her standards.

“Right then. Clothes off, Tay.”

I stared blankly at my aunt, who returned a quizzical look as if I had questioned the most blindingly obvious fact of all time.

“You know, disrobe, kit off, and get naked?” She even mimicked disrobing as I groaned at her before shaking my head in vigorous protest and took a few steps away from my aunt.

“Not a chance, Auntie! No way in hell am I getting naked here so you can run your eyes all over me!”

“I bathed you regularly only two years ago, Tay. You don’t have anything I’ve not seen before.” I growled at my aunt for the ease at which she brushed off my concerns regarding getting into my birthday suit in a kitchen.

“Last chance, Aunt. I will put on my bodysuit, but nothing less or I call the cops to report a paedophile.” My aunt gave an exasperated sigh at my common decency before throwing up her hands in surrender.

“You win. Though this will make it harder for me to see if your costume fits you, Tay.” I saw my aunt mutter under her breath as she conceded. “Honestly, even Anne got infected with this prudishness about nudity after living here so long.” I cringed as I recalled the times when Aunt Aldra would walk out of the bathroom in the nude and the embarrassed looks on my parent’s faces before Mom shooed her back inside. It took her over a year to learn not to do that. Brushing aside the embarrassing memories, I summoned the dark purple suit that covered my body like a second skin and removed my kimono uniform. My aunt looked me over and I glared at her while slapping away her hands when she tried to grope me.

“I was only trying to see if they’re real, Tay. No need to get violent.” My aunt pouted as she nursed her hands sporting some angry red welts. I gave her a hard stare in return. What kind of culture she grew up in where it was considered acceptable to grope your own niece to check on her growth? My aunt quickly recovered as she looked me over again, this time with a distinctly clinical gaze. I grew increasingly impatient as the minutes ticked by while she engaged in a monologue under her breath, and I snapped at her.

“Well? Are you done playing fashion designer with your underage niece?” Aunt Aldra looked at me squarely in the eye at my outburst, before she passed her judgement.

“The material of your suit shows off your body well, and the dark purple and red with gold highlights accentuate your pale skin. But you ought to have more lines outlining here,” Aunt Aldra used her fingers to outline my chest, hips and armpits as she pointed out where exactly she wanted me to draw attention to. I shivered as I envisioned golden embroidery borders outlining there. It’s like a giant hit here sign.

“I’m not going to decorate my costume with instructions to strike here at my weak-points.” My aunt regarded me coolly as she explained her reasoning.

“My dear Taylor. When you’re as strong as we are frankly, any enemy strong enough to actually hurt us aren’t going to be stopped or even inconvenienced by mere armour.” I felt Werbellia’s approval at her daughter’s logic and thanked my luck that Aunt Aldra didn’t attempt to make me follow my phantom friend’s own outfit.

“Yes, Aldra. Together, we will show this parahumans the might of demonkind.” Werbellia spoke clearly as she appeared next to me, her right hand cupping her chin. Aunt Aldra’s face tightened as she saw her deceased mother appear and snapped at her.

“We’re not doing whatever it is you’re planning.” The dead one among us frowned at being shut down so quickly and exclaimed in protest.

“You haven’t even heard what I’ve got planned. Let me finish.” As the phantom living inside me outlined her strategy in detail, I found myself agreeing to her plan. Even Aunt Aldra appeared suitably impressed.

“Well, I guess you can think of something that’s good. Sometimes.”

///////////////////////////////

The PRT

///////////////////////////////

Sergeant Julian Biggs who is fresh out of boot camp at the tender age of twenty two was bored. This is a good thing when you’re serving in the PRT and planning to serve till the end of your contract without losing your limbs. The Parahuman Response Team has plenty of exciting things to do but they are also very dangerous things as well. Despite boot camp and training drilling it into the heads of fresh PRT recruits, there’s always at least one glory hound who followed the safety rules a little too laxly or a little overzealous in pursuit and ended up getting a flag for his nice coffin in every batch. The others who got the Stars and Stripes were those who were just plain unlucky.

So Julian was very happy to be serving reception duty at the PRT HQ downtown where it was usually safe. It was usually the guard detail outside who ended up in the KIA list if some mad parahuman decided to have a go at the symbol of government attempts at parahuman control. He was dressed in full riot gear, though he had placed the helmet and most of the body armour below the desk at the reception counter with his partner following suit. The entire reception team had their webbing on, with loaded firearms and containment foam launchers on standby behind them. The appearance of that new cape Mist Phantom who displayed a list of powers on a scale comparable to the likes of Purity and a moderately ramped up Lung got the entire Protectorate and PRT on alert.

The sound of the phone ringing made the PRT trooper huff in annoyance. The sheer volume of calls and inanity of their questions since none emergency calls were routed elsewhere made the nature of reception duty tedious, though it was still preferable to other more dangerous duties on offer.

“Good afternoon. PRT Main Desk, this is Sgt Julian speaking. How may I help you today?” Clipped, polite and professional. Just how he was trained. There was some fumbling heard over the line and audible throating clearing, before he heard a woman’s voice, husky and smooth speak to him.

“Auntie, what do I say again? Just like that? But it’s the PRT! He might be a hero!” For someone with such a mature speaking voice, the inflection and tone sounds rather juvenile. Maybe she’s just an early bloomer? The PRT sergeant switched his persona from friendly PR representative to caring councillor potentially handling a scared new trigger. But the presence of a potential adult guardian based on the statement made by the caller gave him some reassurance of familial support. It was something lacking in most families nowadays.

“Miss? Is there something I can help you with? Do you want me to speak to your aunt instead if you’re not comfortable?” The young caller took several gasps of air and he could hear another adult female speaking to her in French in the background. The caller replied to her frantically in the same language before he heard her reply.

“Good afternoon, Julian. This is Mist Phantom speaking.” Julian immediately tensed up and pressed a panic button below the desk and tapped out a code. Potential hostile parahuman contact on phone, activate potential Master/ Stranger Protocols. Still keeping a cordial, friendly tone, the sergeant continued to keep the caller on the line.

“Hi, Mist Phantom. May I know the purpose of your call?” A text message sent to his PRT issued phone informed him that the call was made from a public phone at Weymouth mall. CCTV on site shows that the caller was a stocky black man with extensive facial hair and dirty clothes, possibly homeless. Master protocols are now in place and call is being monitored in real time.

“I just want to let you know that in response to that arrest warrant you people have placed on me after I tagged Mush and a whole bonanza of Merchants and Empire goons, I will be making a visit to the Rig and the PRT HQ downtown.” Mist Phantom now sounded a lot more confident, the hesitance earlier no longer present and replaced with a presence of an experienced cape. So possible schizophrenic tendencies due to trigger? Or was the aunt a parahuman as well? The PRT monitoring the call burst into activity as alarms blared in the building and visitors were guided to escape routes and blast doors to the inner parts of the building came down. Julian put the phone on speaker as he put on his body armour while continuing the conversation.

“Mist Phantom, we strongly advise that you surrender yourself peacefully. You will be guaranteed access to legal counsel and guardian presence if you’re a minor during any interaction with the Protectorate. We wish to inform you that legal precedent has been set that first time offenders for parahumans who experienced a fresh trigger event are treated leniently by the courts.”

Julian was impressed he managed to speak out that entire rehearsed speech in one single breath without breaking his stride. Although hostile parahumans who called in mock them almost never agree to come quietly. Sure enough, he heard the sound of mocking laughter in the background, though the second unfamiliar one sounded very distant as if the source was far from the phone.

“Oh, I will be coming down, but you can forget about surrender.” Mist Phantom sounded almost personally offended at the notion that the PRT can make her concede. “I will be coming tonight, at four PM to the Rig and your downtown HQ.” Julian glanced at the digital clock on his phone, showing 1556 hours.

“Sundown isn’t for another three hours, Mist Phantom.” A low chuckle from Mist Phantom, before she replied coolly.

“Oh, time isn’t an issue for me.” The call died as the ringtone sounded. A buzzing sound and beep informed him of yet another text from his superiors and Julian’s jaws dropped as he read the new missive.

“Mist Phantom seen walking towards Rig from shore. Twenty feet path has been opened in Bay after sea was split apart.” As the young PRT trooper texted his bosses back to see if there was a mistake, he felt his partner tap him on the shoulder.

“Look outside.”

Julian glanced at the glass doors towards the main street of downtown Brockton Bay, and saw the orangey lights of a setting sun rapidly fading away to dusk.

/////////////////////

My nose wrinkled in distaste at the smell of the dead aquatic plant life and several other types of marine life that I had inadvertently killed off with the Blight. I had to control the effects of the Blight to ensure it didn’t kill any non-sentient automatically but if I didn’t know they were there, then the killing effect would strike them dead without fail. Still, I made sure to walk on the now exposed but damp ocean floor while Gorgon trailed me from twenty feet behind. No point having the PRT get their collective panties in a twist at the only cape in town I knew could be trusted to be on my side. Despite the stench of dead marine life and salt, I felt a current of pleasure at the sight of my powers splitting the ocean open. I turned my head up towards the now dark sky, filled with shining stars that seemed to twinkle as testament to my glory. I suppressed the strong urge I felt from Werbellia to give an evil cackle. It was clichéd as hell and heroes didn’t cackle in displays of their powers.

“So intoxicating, isn’t it child? The freedom to exert the powers and magic that is your birth right. The knowledge that all those before you are as fleas and gnats before you. Relish it.”

I reminded myself even gnats and fleas can be irritating if unchecked, and not all the insects as Werbellia so puts it are gnats. A number can be poisonous spiders and hornets that possibly can end me. I tuned out her voice as my other self then strode calmly into the PRT downtown HQ, flooding the lobby with the sea of wraiths that appeared as a thick fog trailing me. I manifested a third copy of myself inside the Weymouth Mall, where Aunt Aldra had so generously informed the waiting media and by extension the PRT that I would be there holding a media conference. The version of me that’s walking towards the Rig got enough of feeling damp sand and other debris on my feet and took to the sky, gliding leisurely towards the Rig. It was testament to the preparedness of the PRT to sudden events that I saw helicopters full of PRT troopers swarm out from the Rig while both the PRT downtown HQ teams surrounded me with more men and equipment.

I quickly found all three of my selves surrounded. The PRT downtown HQ team had Miss Militia in the lead and Triumph backing her along a large contingent of PRT regular troops. No doubt that place is crawling with traps, traps which my wraiths were now sourcing out and identifying while avoiding the anti-gas attack filters. I felt a tingle as Velocity slowed down to just above the speed of sound outside Weymouth Mall and my expanded consciousness picked up on him, sifting him out from the other lifeforms that infested the mall as I had made a special note of someone who moved fast enough to evade me. Armsmaster glared at me, himself flanked by a female cape in a white and dark grey suit with metallic blue lines on it. She wore no headgear which showed orange red hair and also wore a simple green mask that showed the lower half of her face. Right beside her was another cape, a brunette in a red costume with a red visor that covered the upper half of his face. I noted seven choppers circling me, bristling with guns and armed troopers. I felt some concern as another pair of PRT choppers started circling Gorgon, signifying that the PRT maybe suspecting that Gorgon was friendly to me.

Well, if I were to avoid having two capes labelled villain in the Hebert family, I would just have to take all the negative attention then. I ordered my ethereal tide of wraiths to envelope the circling helicopters while I closed in on the trio of capes awaiting me on the Rig’s exposed platform. I saw the two newer Protectorate heroes tense up and the female parahuman’s suit started to glow along the blue lines before I saw Armsmaster raise his right hand to order the two to stand down. The armoured hero himself held his halberd close to him but it was pointed away from me, signalling his intention to de-escalate. I was genuinely impressed by the show of diplomacy and goodwill and let it show as I gave a small smile. Likewise, the senior heroes in both the Mall and HQ teams also visibly told their subordinates to hold fire and stay carefully neutral.

AS a show of goodwill, I abandoned the original plan of having the wraiths frighten the daylights out of the PRT troopers by showing them some really gruesome images. I felt disappointed, because one of the wraiths took the form of a strangled female which was left to rot in a lake and I was certain I could get at least one of these hardened soldiers to pass out from fright. I withdrew the wraiths and instead I made a sweeping gesture towards the helicopters circling me and Gorgon and did likewise at the PRT troopers in the HQ and the mall. The guns and foam sprayers of the PRT troops in the HQ and mall were ripped from their hands as I reached out via their shadows and were mashed into a ball of metal and foam that was deposited next to me in both venues. For the helicopters, I formed a vacuum around the propellers of their choppers causing them to stall and ripped the pilots and other personnel inside the birds with gusts of controlled wind, before settling their hapless selves safely on the Rig.

I came to a stop about ten feet above the three heroes, hovering above them as I gazed down at Armsmaster. His expression was stony, but I felt a sense of disappointment from him going by the frown on his face. I was actually expecting the armoured hero to be a lot more…agitated. I decided to break the ice with the bearded cape even as I made small talk with Miss Militia at the PRT HQ and also fielded questions from the assembled press at Weymouth Mall.

“Armsmaster. You seemed a lot less upset than I’d expect after I had shown up all of you?” The armoured hero shook his head as he kept his halberd in an unthreatening positon. “That a new born parahuman as yourself would get lost in the indulgence of your power is nothing to be surprised about. I only feel a sense of pity that someone as powerful as yourself would be so petty.” I felt Werbellia’s heckles rise at the condensation from Armsmaster, but I resisted the urge of my deceased relation to rip out his heart. Mom, when she was training me, had warned me before of those who struck with words rather than powers or arms. I was surprised at the display of wordplay by Armsmaster really. Nothing before in his reputation suggested the armoured Tinker was this fluent in attempting to use diplomacy before resorting to force after having determined someone was a villain.

“Are you going to try to convince me by some statistics on how independents do not last too long? How a life of crime or a violent death is inevitable for those who stubbornly refuse to choose the side of the Protectorate?”

“No, of course not.” Now he really has my attention as Armsmaster continued. “There are always anomalies in the numbers, Mist Phantom. Someone who triggered with as much power and fine control over them as you did would not be gang pressed by almost any gang or organisation without significant risk to themselves. No, you are more than capable of resisting any attempts at forcible recruitment.” I raised both eyebrows in disbelief and gestured to the wrecked helicopters.

“And these are what, Armsmaster? It sure felt like a forcible recruitment attempt to me.” Armsmaster’s was firm with conviction as he spoke the next words.

“We did not set out with the intention to recruit you with the possibility of jail as a threat like the gangs would coerce you, Mist Phantom. We only had this assets ready in case you were not about to come quietly. We are upholders of the law and social justice first and foremost. Do not doubt that.”

Hmm, either the Tinker is more of a bullshit peddler than I had heard or he is one of those genuine heroes that Mom told me about.

“Well then, considering I am not about to go into your custody without a fight, Armsmaster. What are you going to do?” I summoned the Witch’s Staff and had it levitate next to me, the dark and red weapon pulsing with light. The Protectorate head parahuman cocked his head to pay attention to my staff, before he turned back to me.

“I will speak plainly, Mist Phantom. You have displayed restraint that’s admirable for a fresh trigger. Trying to bring you in forcibly considering the nature of your relatively less serious crimes in the grand scheme of parahumanity’s importance to the world would put civilians at an unacceptable amount of risk.” I felt the armoured hero scan my face for clues as to my reaction as he continued.

“You’re an intelligent woman. I’m sure that considering your restraint shown you prefer doing things the correct way. Joining us will help you achieve that.” I’m starting to see why Armsmaster is the leader of the local Hero capes.

“That said… “

Armsmaster suddenly leapt at me from his standing position, catching me off guard with his sudden aggression. He fired a hard light beam that glowed sickly green at me from the tip of his halberd, which I deflected with the spearhead of the staff before I teleported another twenty feet above my current position. I hurriedly withdrew my other selves who were still having a rather amicable standoff with the PRT and their capes and decided on a response. From my new height, I called down a bolt of lightning at the descending figure of Armsmaster, whose armour released a cloud of metal shrapnel to divert my attack. I held back from showering the Rig with waves of empowered wraiths as I awaited his undoubtedly eloquent explanation for the sudden attack.

“If it comes down to it, Mist Phantom. We are still capable of taking you in. I’m sure you’re mature enough to understand that.” Hmm, so a show of force and a…wait. I summoned my crystal ball and looked at my reflection. Werbellia’s looks which I modelled my Changer appearance isn’t very reflective of my actual age. I made sure that the assembled media at the Weymouth mall heard it via the wraiths still linger there as I set the record straight.

“It seems that the PRT is acting under some faulty information. For the record, I would like to state that I am eleven years old.” I ignored the flurry of question from the frenzied press pack who bombarded me with questions at my announcement and devoted most of my attention to the Rig. Armsmaster remained admirably inscrutable despite the fact that I’ve just set the Youth Guard and every anti PRT activist and politician into a frenzy with my bombshell that the PRT was planning to use excess force on a pre-teen.

“Also for the record, Armsmaster. I would like to say this.” I swept a churning wave of wraiths glowing brightly with my power towards the helipads dotting the top of the rig, bringing them under my influence before twisting them into makeshift spears that landed in a circle on the three capes standing below me. I shot a hard glare in the general direction of the Rig as I projected my voice through the wind.

“I too will speak plainly, Armsmaster. I bow or salute to no one who attempts to bind me. Do not think of me as some costumed bloodhound to be deployed at the pleasure of those beneath me!”

I redirected the split sea to form a wall of water around the Rig while I assembled the corpses of the dead fish and other marine life into something that resembles a beached whale that has been left for dead in the sun. The zombie whale circled round the Rig’s risen water, the stench of death causing me to feel nausea. It let out a wail that sounded something like a normal whale’s call like the dead dog Insides I brought back on a whim resembles a living dog. Finally sated, I set the water of the Bay back to the original depth while I ignited the corpse whale construct with summoned black fire, the fat and other tissue of the collected seafood acting as fuel for the unnatural blaze. I watched with satisfaction as the burning chunks of burning fish fell into the dark waters of the bay with a roaring splash.

“Adieu, Protectorate heroes. It is pitiful that someone like you would deign to serve like some house pets.” Not wanting to hear more of the armoured Tinker’s sophistry or undergo anymore sudden attacks, I winked out of existence.

//////////////

New Wave

////////////

Amy Dallon looked at the gathering crowds for tonight’s match at the Train yards on the edge of Brockton Bay between her mom and Gorgon. The healer always felt that the fights felt like a domestic dispute writ large, with her mom and her personal heroine coming to blows over the best way to raise her. If nothing else, Gorgon’s influence had a spurring effect on her adoptive mother. The settled rules for this twice-a-season cape fights were either first blood for either side, or if either side was no longer able to compete. That means Mom has to learn to use indirect fire for her projected weapons and to make use of the reflective shield as a visual aid to counter Gorgon’s petrification stare. For Gorgon, it meant learning to the difference between cover and concealment after one of Brandish’s thrown darts went straight through her metal spine armour and into her tummy. Though the way she could manipulate those metal spines and their broken off shards really reminded her of her birth father, which probably set off Brandish even more.

The brunette healer sighed as she brushed away thoughts for her imprisoned father. Gorgon or even in her civilian guise as Aldra managed to get under Carol Dallon’s skin like no one else can. The sometimes lavender haired, sometimes silver haired cape had triggered a competitive instinct in the Dallon mother and Carol showed a lot more interest in her life, in stark contrast with her behaviour before Aldra entered their lives when she was so distant, tired and wary of her. After their third fight, Gorgon had called her over and whispered to her.

“My little angel. Can you give Carol a chance to be a mother to you?” Amy gave her saviour and crush a perplexed stare, prompting Gorgon to explain.

“Carol is trying very hard to treat you like she does Victoria. But I think you have to help her help you by going to her with your problems.” Amy had tried to explain to her crush that Carol wasn’t likely to help her and she suspected if she was on fire, her adopted Mother would start clearing out her room. But she will try and Gorgon will be proven wrong and she can take her away from that horrible lady. She chose a math problem at school. Not something too difficult, she didn’t want to impose, but it was difficult enough that she could not solve it off the top of her head. Amy had expected a curt answer followed by sharp looks of disapproval.

Mrs Dallon-Mom- gave a strained smile, one that barely resembled the one she’d give Vicki, and sat her down at the kitchen table and patiently walked her through the question. Mom even started to tell her off like she would with Vicki, head full of steam and voice trembling with hot disapproval instead of the cold judgemental tone she’d use in court.

It felt like a family. Mom was even gently goading Dad into seeking therapy and medication for his all too apparent mental issues. Her adopted mother had declined her offer to fix whatever chemical imbalance was in the head after her trigger, but her Mom had rejected her with a small smile.

“I want to walk this through with Mark.”

The young healer’s thoughts of the past was interrupted with a crushing hug and someone yelling her name. She looked to her side and saw a mop of blonde hair.

“Hi Vicki. Stop trying to suffocate me.”

A tinkling laughter and a sudden surge of mirth washed over her as she recognised her sister’s recently acquired powers. Victoria Dallon looked at her, a prominent grin on the face that made Amy’s heart skip a few beats.

“Remember Amy, Vicki’s powers include an aura that affects emotions.” The brunette thought to herself as she resisted the surging emotions. The healer shrugged off her sister’s bear hug as she scanned the crowd which had grown large after her last session of reminiscing of her childhood. She frowned as she spotted Gorgon walking among her crowds of fans alone, bantering and making small talk but missing her niece.

“Vicki, you’ve seen Taylor?” Amy didn’t need to be looking at the blonde cape to know of the cheeky smile on her face as her sister gave colour commentary animatedly.

“Ames, the whole world has seen her! Between the ripping off the roof of the Rig, the parting of the sea, the appearing in three different locations and holding three separate conversations while fighting in one of them, no one not in a coma or dead in BB hasn’t seen her.” Victoria’s face then twisted into a grimace as she continued. “But the whole zombie whale thing? Man that was both creepy and overkill.”

“Cape ID, Vicki.” Amy said on instinct. It hadn’t been difficult to put Gorgon’s interest in the new cape that took the Bay’s attention by storm and her previous exclusion from the cape scene together and figure that Taylor was Mist Phantom. The brunette suspects that the rest of New Wave was also aware that Taylor had triggered, but kept silent on the matter out of respect for the cape ID of their family friend. Feeling a rising frustration, Amy turned to her sister and huffed.” Don’t see Taylor anywhere, think she might be doing something stupid after this morning’s fight with her dad.”

“Wait, Taylor had a fight with her dad Danny?” Vicki’s eyes widened in surprise at the revelation.

“Danny was upset over Mist Phantom’s dumping of several tons of dead, burnt up fish into the bay. Quite a large haul had washed up the beaches and docks and the Dock Workers are struggling to clear the mess. “

The blonde cape winced as she put together the puzzle.

“Add Taylor’s own simmering temper, that pride of hers and mix it up with Mr Hebert’s own…” Amy scanned the horizon for any signs of descending mist in case her friend wants to arrive in costume.

“I guess she’s taking the long route to clear her head.” The healer muttered to herself before the sounds of explosions from the distant south seized the attention of everyone gathered. Several streaks of lighting flashed from the source of the explosions before the sky was lit up with flashes of blinding light in rapid succession. A moment passed before a roar reminiscent of Lung tore through the now silent crowd. The silence was at last broken by the sounds of rattling and all eyes turned towards a shaking Gorgon, her metallic spines clanking as the cape shook in fury. Amy noticed the exposed part of Gorgon’s face had paled considerably before the silver haired cape darted off towards the commotion.

The rest of the gathered New Wave, Lady Photon, Flashbang, Manpower and Brandish glanced at each other before following Gorgon. Lady Photon didn’t turn back as she yelled out for the Dallon sisters to stay away.

Another ground shaking explosion and flash of brilliant light. Even from the distance, Amy could smell the burning. The roar that accompanied them this time round was a clear and audible female voice.

“Dragon’s Tail!”

///////////

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Wanted to expand on the fight to move on to the next phase of the story, but I suppose that making this chapter too long would simply affect the flow and output of my story, not to mention placing too onerous a burden on my readers. As always, please leave your comments. Also, Aldra’s attitudes towards casual nudity does seem extra weird when QB’s attitude towards showing skin Is placed into a world like Worm’s setting.


	14. Arc 1.8 Possession

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Taylor meets her first real challenged in the form of Leina Vance.

//////////  
When did it all go so wrong?

The day had ended well enough, since after my demonstration I was sure that I had made clear to the local capes that I was beyond the reach of the Protectorate and their PRT masters. That was until I got a rather curt text from Auntie Sarah to meet at my aunt’s tea shop after hours.

As we met at the shop, I was met with the older cape’s gaze of disapproval. I wished I met Gray Boy instead.

“You overdid it, Taylor.” Emma didn’t have to voice out her disappointment at not being consulted since her tone made that part very clear.

I was left dumbstruck at her reaction and stared in confusion at Auntie Sarah for a beat before I found my voice. I loved the kindly woman, but this was my cape business after all. It’d be bad form to have an unaffiliated cape be deeply involved in my business since I already have two adult parahumans to guide me. Well, one adult and one phantom that may or may not be a projection of my powers. Aunt Aldra can be a bit loopy when it comes to the whole magic and souls thing.

“C’mon Auntie Sarah. I went overboard? Nobody got hurt this time round.” I tried brushing it off with a laugh, but her gaze that made me flinch. Sarah Pelham has a way to make known her disapproval that cuts me to core.

“That’s the only reason I’m not suggesting Aldra take you and Mr Hebert to a long holiday away from America. You’ve cornered yourself, Taylor. You’ve destroyed PRT property, assaulted their officers,” Aunt Sarah raised a finger to silence my attempted rebuttal as she continued without missing a beat,” And that zombie fish? What the hell were you thinking, Taylor Anne Hebert?”

I really wanted to lash out, hit back at the heroines’ condemnation of my deeds, but instead I stood there tongue-tied and unsure of how to respond. Noticing my silence, the older heroine continued pushing her review of my choices.

“You tried to intimidate the PRT, Taylor. I’ve got no idea where or how you can believe that attempting to intimidate the PRT doesn’t lead you on a collision course with them and having you labelled as a villain but that’s how the goddam cookie crumbles.” The long-time family friend stood just inches away from me, so close that I can feel her breath and smell the mint she had a while ago. She was just barely taller than me, but I found myself backing away from Aunt Sarah’s anger. Why don’t things go right for a change?

“The PRT doesn’t back down, Taylor.” She said in a steady tone. I guess she was trying to keep herself calm and not descend into a swearing storm at how ill-conceived she considered my actions were because Aunt Sarah’s eyes were murderous. “Sure, they might not actively seek you out to bring you down since you’re not actively threatening the public but if they’re willing to stand up to the Endbringers, they’re going to stand up to you.”

“Aunt Sarah, I…” A glare from her made my explanation die in my throat as she said deceptively calmly.

“You can’t be a hero if people are terrified of you, Taylor.”

Had it been anyone else, I’d have left in a huff, likely even showing my displeasure in a more physical way. But Aunt Sarah was someone who Mom had respected deeply and had told me to follow her advice as if it came from herself. When she was yelling at me for my mistakes, it really hurt.

“Sorry, Auntie.” Even seeing her sigh in a mix of resignation and disappointment tore at me. I sympathised with Eric and Crystal now. How did they ever lift their heads up after getting dressed down like this?

“Don’t be, because that doesn’t solve anything.” I winced at how she glared at me before I muttered something that sounded intelligible even to my own ears. It sounded like an apology if I was speaking while drowning. Actually, the drowning might be preferable to how Auntie Sarah was making me feel.

“Just get some actually useful advice the next time you’ve got the PRT after you, okay? Speaking of sage advice, “The Pelham matriarch spun on her heels and turned her attention to Aunt Aldra, who remained stoic in face of the New Wave heroine’s withering gaze. The wonders of being a seasoned cape and adult.

“Aldra, I thought Tay would have been in safe hands after you helped minimize the fallout from her actions the night before. What the hell possessed you to let your niece go dig herself into a deeper hole?” I noticed a flash of anger on my aunt’s wine red eyes at someone else questioning her judgement before it was subsumed into her usual jovial guise.

“It worked for me.” The older cape’s eyes narrowed as she pulled out several printed news articles from a suitcase she was carrying. Screaming headlines in bold like “Demoness of Brockton Bay- New Villain cape threatens local Heroes,” “Prodigy in Evil- 11 Year Old Villain holds gathered media hostage at Weymouth Mall!”

It really drives home how hard I’ve screwed up when the sensationalism of yellow journalism isn’t that far from the truth.

“No offense, Aldra but you really need to know the PRT reaction to forceful rejection by a Rogue cape who basically engages in semi-sanctioned performance art with a registered Hero is going to draw a very different reaction from someone who enveloped the entire city in fog and trashed their HQ.” Shaking the stack of printed news, she stalked up to my aunt who was looking more annoyed by the minute.

“Look, Sarah.” My aunt hesitated before continuing in a strained tone, “I know you’re very concerned over Taylor and I’m glad to see that you take her welfare so seriously. But I am not about to hand over my niece to the PRT!” I felt trouble brewing as Aunt Aldra’s voice got steadily louder and quickly I cut in between the duo and separated them. I do not think Aunt Aldra would do anything, but I’ve never seen her so upset before. I mouthed out no silently to Aunt Sarah as I saw her preparing to speak again, but she ignored me and continued.

“Aldra, why didn’t you consider doing things the legal way? The PRT and Protectorate are government bodies and they have to mostly follow all the laws and regulations that it entails.” To her credit, my redhead friend softened her tone and features as she spoke to my aunt. She always did have a knack for reading social situations that rivalled Mom’s. Aunt Aldra’s own expression went softer in reaction to the pleading tone of the Pelham matriarch.

“You could have approached Carol. Despite what she says, we are very grateful for you saving Amy. My sister considers you a friend she can let loose with. You know how difficult it is for capes to have someone like that? And even if you didn’t want to alarm Danny, Carol’s enough of a professional to ensure secrecy.” My aunt gave a questioning look at Aunt Sarah’s persuasion but didn’t interrupt, “Carol’s a damn fine lawyer that could easily have gotten Taylor off with not even a slap on the wrist.” Aunt Aldra’s eyes closed as she entered deep thought, before she opened them again and whirled on the older cape.

“Before she did what she did today of course?” The heroine nodded at my aunt’s rhetorical question.

“I do not like admitting it, but I’ve been outthought and have neglected to see clearly how the PRT will respond. I see now why Anne trusted you to guide Taylor.” My silver haired aunt swallowed her pride as she asked, “Should I approach Brandish to ask for her services?”

“Not if you do not want to have to post a very high bail for Taylor, which may not be granted now so I suggest de-escalation. I will leave that part of the plan to you.” Rubbing her chin, Aunt Aldra nodded as she turned to me. I smiled inwardly as Aunt Sarah flashed me a V-sign while my aunt’s back was turned to her.

“Taylor, forgive me for not considering everything before.” She gave me a slight nod of apology before she continued, “Here’s what I am going to suggest now. Lie low for a few weeks so they have time to lower the alert level thinking you’re on the lam and pick a time to approach one of the Protectorate capes in daylight. Do so in a non-threatening manner and offer our apologies and our cooperation.”

“Our cooperation?” My aunt smiled at me and pulled me in for a hug.

“No way am I letting my niece go through this alone. This mess is as much my fault as a guardian as it is yours. I will not join the Protectorate, but I will offer my services as an Independent Hero affiliated to them.”

I pulled away from Aunt Aldra, something was still gnawing at the back of my mind.

“What about the whole arrest warrant thing? What if they tried enforcing that?” My aunt sniffed at my question before giving a small chuckle.

“And risk both our help in case of an Endbringer fight? The PRT knows how to weigh their options.”

It wasn’t hours later when I realised that Werbellia had remained completely silent throughout the conversation.  
///////////////////////

I suppose it was too much of a good thing to expect the good vibes within the family to continue for more than a day now that Mom’s dead. Dad had been speaking with myself and Aunt Aldra during breakfast about the mess that I had caused with chunks of zombie whale and how it’s making clean-up of the Docks and beaches harder. Already irritated at the thought of my mistakes compounding the issues facing Brockton Bay, I made a snarky remark of the Dockworkers finally getting some work.

Dad took it badly and we ended up in a shouting match before Aunt Aldra broke it up and I stormed out of the house to school. I guess the bad vibes I was giving out must have been obvious because no one really approached me throughout the day when usually they’d be swarming me. As the school day passed in a blur, I picked up my bags from the locker and made my way to the Boardwalk to will away the time before going to the match later tonight. As I got off the bus at the Boardwalk bus stop, I heard a familiar voice that had gone silent for a record twelve hours.

“Taylor,” the voice of my phantom friend was a lot more subdued and sober compared to the pomp and arrogance that usually tinged her tone. “I’ve gotten an ominous feeling lately, and after consulting my divination I want you to stick to crowds for today.” My body tensed up in anticipation of a fight as I casually scanned the throngs of tourists and shoppers for danger.

“Merchants? E88? PRT?” Some of her usual arrogance returned as she sniffed at my guesses.

“If only. The hunch I’ve been getting since last night reminds me of someone far worse.”

“Mom’s old enemies?” A bitter laugh as Werbellia’s presence began to waver again.

“No, it’s mine. And I can’t say I don’t deserve her hatred.” I casually walked among the maddening crowds while ignoring the itch that torments me when facing a crowd of strangers. It was times like this that makes me glad that using my powers extensively make the sensation of thousands upon thousands of unfamiliar presences crawling around the back of your mind easier when I’m in a crowd. I took a moment to let a sudden surge of emotion pass me through as I remembered how having Mom nearby using her powers sometimes makes the itch lessen, before I walked into a boutique that I frequented.

“What did you do?” I asked Werbellia in a low voice while I greeted Sandra, a teen store attendant with gelled up brown hair swept backwards that exposed her forehead. Questionable choice of hairstyle that exposed too wide a forehead aside, she was one of the more trustworthy staff who I can trust to really bring out the best side of me when it comes to my choice of clothing. She tried to always push the more expensive option for sure, but Mom always said a merchant that doesn’t try to fleece you is simply baiting you for a larger sale in the future. I picked a cerulean blouse and a red scarf recommended by Sandra and entered the changing room for some privacy. I guess it helps that being inside the changing stall prevented others from seeing my reaction when Werbellia dropped her bombshell.

“I cursed her with the curse of sleep so she suffers from narcolepsy which means she will fall into a deep sleep out of the blue.” I felt my fingers dig into the blouse I was holding up against the mirror before my phantom continued her confession.

“I also once removed her strength before I left her to be gang raped by a bunch of pirates under my command.” I did not know between my horrified scream at having her in my head or the blouse in my shaking hands ripping in two which was louder.

If she was a construct or a projection of my powers, I have some serious issues.

“You filthy monster.” I finally spat out after searching for the correct words but failed. I could feel Werbellia roll her eyes despite not seeing her.

“Ah, now two generations of my spawn loathe me. However, child, I am already dead. You are not.” I forced a sorry smile as Sandra called out for me outside the changing room before I went outside and insisted on paying for the torn clothes despite Sandra’s brushing it off. I can’t be leeching off Mom’s inherited wealth and goodwill with people for too long. Bill settled, I took out my phone and mingled with the crowd again, intent on pumping Werbellia for whatever information she has before I think of a way to rid myself of her permanently.

“So this old victim of yours thinks I’m her rapist in disguise and wants to kill me for revenge?”

“Unlikely. She’s very aware I’m supposed to be dead so she probably thinks I’m holding you as a thrall and would do her hardest to exorcize me.” I paused outside another tourist trap shop chock full of souvenirs upon her revelation. How convenient then.

“So she will help me get rid of you? Why shouldn’t I let her?” Her evil cackle made me wish that I had a way to silence her selectively instead of having to let her speak freely if I wanted info out of her.

“Because she may end up killing you in the process.”

Okay, that’d be rather inconvenient.

“You know that after I drive her off, I will be finding other ways to drive you out of my head right?” Yet another evil cackle. At least she’s back in character. Contemplative and guilt ridden former villain doesn’t suit her.

“If you drive her off, child. If.”.

/////////////////////////////

I strolled within the Trainyard on the scenic route towards the fight venue between Gorgon and Brandish, meaning I was pacing around the place highly agitated and spoiling for a fight. Werbellia would spend half her time vanishing from my head after our conversation outside that tourist trap, her responses became snappish, and lacking the acidic humour and drollness they usually carry. It was totally outside the norm for her, if you can consider anything normal for a deceased allegedly demonic grandparent anyway. Throughout the whole day, I felt someone’s eyes on me, leaving my nerves on a slow burn throughout the day and progressively making my fuse shorter. Lacking Werbellia, as nasty and horrible the cape she is based on, to banter with compounded my issues. I had Smokey, my first wraith appear and he tried entertaining me but there’s only so much he can do being a mute construct and unable to speak before I got jumpy again too. Plus, people were giving me weird looks when I laughed out loud at some of my wraith’s performances.

So it was with a sigh of relief when the sun finally began to set and I made my way towards the Trainyard. I decided on public transport rather than teleportation or flight since I was still being watched. Alighting from the bus at the neighbourhood just before the Trainyard, I began walking and noticed several other small groups heading towards the same direction as me. Gorgon and Brandish’s fights were famous and well attended since they had most of the excitement of cape fights but with actual rules both sides kept, people were less likely to get hurt. Even the PRT implicitly encourages it since it attracts capes off disguise to observe and also pulls bookies plus gamblers from the local gangs. With them here semi-openly, the heroes can keep a closer watch on them while keeping them out of starting trouble elsewhere.

I pulled my denim jacket tighter as the night breeze picked up and the sun set fully. While my logical mind knew that there was very little things in Brockton Bay that can truly threaten me, the hours of being stalked during daytime and the fact I was not transformed made me more nervous than usual. I felt Werbellia stir while I was walking and noticed her presence seemed a lot more intense than usual.

“Pull away from the crowds, child. Unless of course you’re planning to use the sole parahuman out this dozen or so insects as a thrall or human shield.” I arched an eyebrow at my phantom’s advice to pull away from the admittedly imagined safety of the crowds, but decided to comply. I was planning to confront and beat down the stalker causing me grief anyway. I walked briskly away from the spectators walking towards the designated fight venue and moved to a quieter corner of the Trainyard. Back in the heyday of Brockton Bay when there was actually an economy and ships sailed in with jobs, the trains here ran day and night, the sound of whistles and engines signalling a healthy industrial economy. From what Dad told me, after Leviathan choked the shipping business the land transport died almost as much as the sea.

The location I was chose for my opponent who justifiably wants to cave in the skull of Werbellia was called the Elephant Mounds, since half stripped trains resemble elephant skeletons after you’ve got high on the latest Merchant product. In the shadowy corners of the tomb for Brockton’s land transport industry, gazes from hungry, judging eyes sized me up. Junkies, muggers and other assorted denizens of the night who could not fit into the bright lights of respectable society were attracted to the expensive clothes on me that shouted prey to their instincts, but the presence of my wraiths and the thick miasma caused by their gathering numbers shouted cape to them. I twitched my fingers like a puppeteer controlling his marionette and the shadows came alive, causing potential interlopers of my duel to be faced with their own personal demons as the darkness danced and played on their fears. Sounds of whimpering, terrified sobbing and the crunch of syringes crushed by the shoes of hastily retreating criminals and homeless soon echoed across the quickly emptying Trainyard as I braced myself and released the Blight.

I did not have to wait long.

The first clue that my opponent was playing for keeps was the train car that was thrown at me. Well, parts of it anyway. Much of the train car came apart mid-air from the force with which it was flung, shedding parts of the train as it hurtled towards me. So a Brute but not a Breaker or Striker then since the train car reacted exactly as it would if it was hit by a force capable to throwing it at supersonic speeds. The remaining train wreck crumpled against the wraith wall I’ve set up with a loud screech of crushing metal and a shower of sparks, my assembled constructs glowing a dark purple from my power as they shielded me. Another wave of missiles came at me. Railway spikes, train doors, the locomotives and again entire cars were hurled against me. The flying objects glowed an angry red as my assailant threw them with successively increasing power. Much of the larger projectiles burned up before reaching me, streaks of light accompanying the disintegration. Even the air in the trajectory which the missiles came at me glowed when the air heated up from the force of the thrown objects. I smelled the stench of burning plastic, heated rock and metal, while the smoke from the now burning wrecks that littered the battlefield threatened to obscure my line of sight.

I willed myself to my Changer form and I immediately picked up a female humanoid shape from the smoke and burning wreckage with my enhanced sight. Despite having tried to mulch me just seconds previously by throwing decommissioned trains so hard they caught fire approaching me, I could see hesitation clearly on her face. A blonde woman with waist long hair flowing freely, wearing a dark blue bodysuit with metal pieces that seemed useless as protection and more for decoration clinging to her suit. Her costume exposed most of her arms and legs, but the iron greaves, gauntlets and a buckler that more resembled an oversized throwing star shaped shuriken seemed to provide some form of protection.

Of course, if she’s a Brute, than armour really isn’t needed, but more for vanity. So it makes sense…somehow. Now if only she doesn’t look like a deranged stripper I’d feel less ridiculous fighting her.

Like most of my mother’s old connections, I noted with seething jealousy, she was ridiculously attractive and well built. Even the muscles that rippled across her exposed skin failed to detract from the feminine grace she exuded. She wore a metal mask that covered the lower half of her face, exposing her purple eyes and mouth.

My masked opponent’s sword had two uprising golden wings on the guard and a black triangle on the tip of the blade. A single ruby shone within the ebony triangle and my opponent alternated looking at her weapon and me with evident puzzlement, as if she was expecting her weapon to react in some form. I summoned my Witch’s Staff and the sight of the weapon appeared to sweep away any doubts she had as she lunged towards me, my staff just barely blocking the overhead chop from my enemy’s blade. I had attempted to stab her when she exposed herself with that wide overhead swing, but the speed at which she charged at me didn’t allow me to take advantage and I lost my ranged advantage with the polearm I had.

The blade slid along the shaft of my staff, forcing me to release my left hand to prevent losing my fingers and I pushed away my foe with my shoulder to prevent myself from being disarmed. A wraith slide between us and burst into a sphere of black flame, temporarily blinding her and I swung at her with my staff only for her to parry away my strike with her shuriken shield. I used the momentum from her counterattack to get more distance between us and regain my range advantage before my masked foe closed in again and made a thrust towards my stomach. I cried in pain as I felt her sword connect, disregarding my suit’s protection as well as the inherent toughness of my skin. It caused a large gash on the left side of my stomach and I was certain it only didn’t go straight into my digestive tract because I had attempted dodging before her blade landed.

My eye watered with stinging tears as I bit down a sob, forcing every bit of training on pain resistance I had undergone to prevent myself from breaking down. That cut had hurt and took out a chunk of flesh.

I began twisting my body erratically as she launched a series of swings and stabs, most of them barely missing me but continuing to nick me with smaller cuts, which reminded me of how close I was to dying. I called lighting and summoned black fire on her, but the speed at which she moved and the way her shield and sword swept away my Blaster attacks discouraged me from using those when she was within melee range. A few probing thrusts with my spear when I managed to distance us were easily parried, and sometimes she’d simply sidestep my attacks and begin another barrage. Her attacks grew in ferocity and speed, gradually building into a tempo and then each swing began to miss and parry faster than the sounds made by her moving metal. Attacks that missed me or were parried caused large gouges in the ground and soon the ground was filled with trenches and potholes due to her attacks. I began to panic as I realised my opponent can use a weapon at supersonic speed and I felt my heart pounding against my chest as I realised the difference in today’s battle against the ones I had before.

It was pain. Real, unfiltered pain from someone who wants me dead and is capable of doing it. Not once have I fallen sick before in my life, not once before have pain been anything more than a mild sensation, more academic concern than a visceral reality for me. Something to be given in controlled doses, not something primal that triggers my survival instinct. I thanked Mom’s and Aunt Aldra’s combat training that I didn’t curl up from the shock to my first exposure to mortal peril.

In all my training with Mother and Aunt Aldra, I’ve never felt anything like this. I hyperventilated from how close my opponent was and the force with which she pressed that black tipped sword against me. My arms and back were screaming in pain as I resisted the titanic pressure barrelling down on me. In contrast, Mush’s attempts to crush me two nights ago felt like a gentle but firm handshake. My opponent appeared to be infuriatingly calm as she studied me from close range. The way she gazed upon me was like how a researcher would gaze upon a guinea pig in a cage- studying, judging, curious and absolutely confident in her own safety.

The dismissive insult she delivered caused my anger to boil over and I reached out with my powers to her shadows, before I felt a sharp pain in my mind as I felt my attempts roughly shoved back. The curious look on the blonde’s face switched to a nasty scowl and I felt a kick to my torso that sent me flying through several trains. My ears rang from the cacophony of bursting air and tearing metal that followed after I had been tossed into the wrecks. My masked opponent bounded towards me rapidly, her face determined and I dodged several sword thrusts by rolling to the side. I saw that sword of her do the impossible, when three feet of cold steel thrust into the rocky ground and caused it to split open, a shockwave generated sending dust, mud and rock to spew through the resulting fissure. The explosion grabbed me and pain tore into my body as I was flung into the air before landing with a loud crash into a pile of burning wrecks. I curled up instinctively before regaining my senses and fought down the now overpowering fear that I wasn’t going to live through this. Deciding to cut my losses, I tried fleeing to fight another day, when I heard Werbellia’s voice cry out in panic.

“Don’t do that!”

I ignored her and attempted to teleport away, but as the world melted away like it usually does, I was ripped back into normal space by a painful bright light and a loud scream that caused my world to shake. I winked back into existence ten feet in the air above where I was and came crashing down onto the earth on all fours and began throwing up from the disorientation. Once again instincts to flee, once so alien to me threatened to overtake me and I summoned a great effort to push them down. That pain, again. Not the dulled sensation that was easily tuned out by a mix of adrenaline and my own Brute body. That pain made me excited and riled up. This one made me terrified, vulnerable and helpless. But I’ve never felt helpless before. Only the thought that my proud mother would be ashamed if I had not put up a fight despite my weakness allowed me to press on despite my growing familiarity with the sensation of being prey.

The blonde cape was kind enough to wait as I rallied my senses and stood up with my Staff at the ready, only to see my tormentor giving me a beatific smile with her sword pointing away from me.

“Don’t worry. I will be freeing you from the Swamp Witch soon enough.” God, even her voice is wonderfully but infuriatingly smooth and feminine. I willed the air surrounding her to scatter while I gathered the winds and began to mix demonic black flame with the gathering gale. Despite the fact she should be going blue from the lack of air, my opponent simply gave me a hard stare, keeping her weapon pointing away from me. Well, if she’s going to let me have a free shot in, I wasn’t about to complain.

I snapped my fingers and the gathering air pressure mixed with the demonic flame to rapidly converge at her point before the two pressed together, the air was sucked into a vacuum that pulled in the blonde cape before the small black flame burst into a giant fireball that brightened the night sky. I followed through with a crashing wave of lighting converging on ground zero of the fuel air explosion I caused, the brilliant blue bolts tearing into the ground, sending dust and rock swirling as they smashed my enemy. My wraiths possessed the rusty trains that had yet to be melted down and torn apart, about twenty five relatively intact trains, and I threw them onto the location where I had directed my storm at.

“Useless gesture. You’re hopelessly outclassed by Leina.” Just as the solemn voice of my phantom finished, I saw a brilliant golden light growing brighter from within the stacked trains.

“Dragon Tail!” First silence, then followed by a loud thump before a column of light burst out of the wreckage. Tons of steel that was reinforced with my power pressing down on her, a tidal wave of lighting and a fuel air explosion didn’t even slow down my enemy as I saw her sword humming with that damned glow while sweeping away my reinforced prison for her effortlessly.

For the first time since I can remember, I gave in and sobbed at the sight of my seemingly invincible opponent. I felt the Blight around my enemy banished as that damned knife of hers started burning even brighter, sending cold trickles of hopelessness down my spine. I shivered and felt my teeth chattering while my voice broke into hysterics. I saw the atmosphere around her ignite with air ripples forming around her, her gathering strength hammering another nail into the walls of the coffin I felt closing in on me. She pointed that damned weapon at me again, the thing glowing so bright I had to avert my eyes.

“Come forth! Winds of Victory!” I beheld the sun rise before me even through my shut eyelids as the words were spoken like the blast of a thousand trumpets blaring their charge and her light turned night into day. The roaring wind deafened me as I recognised the scene before me for what it was. A final, decisive proclamation of victory over the vanquished.

A victory over me.

My lips quivered and I did the unthinkable.

“Mama, mama, help me.” Any other moment of my life I would have died of shame at the mewling weakness on display, expressing disgust at the feebleness of the plea croaked out to a deceased parent in times of need. The proud heir of Annette and Daniel Hebert, reduced to crying for her mother like a spoilt child. Whining for my dead mother who guided me and shielded me when things got too big for me to handle instead of facing destruction with the pride expected of a hero.

I had once thought that now that my powers were no longer restricted I had surpassed her. How stupid of me.

“You’ll have to settle for your evil grandmother, child.”

Werbellia’s presence enveloped me with like a smothering blanket.

“I enjoyed my time with you Taylor. But it is time for me to pay for my sins.”

I yelled out in my head as my body got hijacked by my phantom that she definitely wasn’t the type to do heroic sacrifices and she should live out her guilt and atone in a more practical way. A small sad laugh that reminded me of Mama so much escaped from her lips as my body changed further in response to Werbellia’s growing control. But there was no witty retort, callous mocking or acidic comeback. Just some gentle advise in the most motherly tone I’ve ever heard her use.

“Remember to practice your magic, child.” My grandmother’s gentle smile which was so alien on her ever imperious face turned into a sneer of contempt as she faced the masked blonde. I heard Werbellia’s voice roar out in defiance, the tenor of her voice regal and rich as dark flame sprouted out from her to challenge the white glow. Countless portals, swirling tears in the fabric of reality opened up and countless Minions and other constructs I’ve never seen before poured out of them heralded by discordant screams from within the portals. Nightmares made flesh crawled and leapt out of them. Skeletal big cats covered in sore layered skin with eyes that swirled with inky blackness. Giant worms with large mouths filled with endless rows of teeth that burrowed into the ground. Winged imps innumerable in the size of their host and winged devils soared in the skies, their existence causing their surroundings to melt into a discordant wrongness as reality bent around them. Smokey and the rest of the swirling wraiths becoming more solid- more human as individual faces began to take form from what was previously featureless, transparent smoke and light. Ashen, haunting human features locked in various portraits of suffering. Somehow I knew that if anyone or anything living were to touch them now, they’d die for each of these wraiths were now avatars of the hatred of the dead have for the living. A horde of skeletons dug themselves out of the ground, ripping the metal off the tracks and trains and shaping them into weapons while those without simply grew spikes made of their own bone. The foul stench of the Swamp came back in full force and I saw the dark sky not illuminated by the glow of that sword covered in a pea soup green cloud.

But all this was irrelevant to the fear that grasped my heart. Surprisingly, it was not for myself.

Damn it, Werbellia! I’m not losing more of my family again!

////////////////

Werbellia

////////////////

I smirked towards my old foe as she held her sword and shield in a defensive position, ready for any trick I was going to use against her. Inwardly, I was seriously annoyed at the noise my granddaughter and heir was making over the fact I was probably going to die tonight. Again. How embarrassing, it’s like she loves me like some human.

And I was having such wonderful success in forging her to be a proper heir to the mantle of the Swamp Witch.

By the Netherworld, she made less of a racket than when her own mother-both of them died! And my darling Annelotte had chosen to give up her life for my spoiled grandchild, refusing to kill us by letting my curse consume her. Oh, the things we do for family. I wonder if that was how Stephan felt when he refused to stop me before I cast his soul into the Netherworld when pushed by the powers of the Swamp Witch.

Pushed? Ha! I slay myself sometimes. The Swamp Witch’s powers do not make anyone do something they’ve not already thought of doing before. I chuckled to myself at how familial love is the downfall of all of us.

“Love for anyone other than yourself is one thing demonkind should never have.”

The last words of my old man, the former Demon King whose name I don’t even remember right before I killed him and succeeded him. Mostly because I’ve put a geas on myself and blotted out all mention of him from the Netherworld to never remind myself of him again.

It almost brings a non-existent tear to my eyes at the finest of demonic tradition being kept. Anne and her daughter as well as her mortal husband. Aldra and her obsession with finding Annelotte and later the illusionary husband she made up in fevered madness and of course myself, Stephan and the girls. One way or another, dear old dad’s words are prophetic

“What are you laughing at, Werbellia!” I heard the clear voice of Leina Vance spit out my name and her question as if it were a curse. How heroic of her to not simply skewer me with that sword of hers when she had the chance. That pointy stick Edenfeld, forged with sunlight and captured moonlight from the two moons of the Continent, quenched in Holy Milk, broken and re-forged again with the greatest techniques of Dwarf craftsmanship and human alchemy using metal taken from the weapons welded by the ones that slew my predecessor. A weapon that embodies the loathing of the Light and the living on all things demonic, alien and-ugh- evil.

On the other hand, her skills at banter have obviously not improved as much as her fighting technique. The more things change. Blah yak I want to grow stronger. Flap my gums unhand that artefact slash damsel in distress.

“Oh, nothing much Leina. Just thinking to myself how different you look and how I almost could not recognise you.”

“Different?” Gah! She actually looks curious! Just how hard do I have to abuse her to break the inherent goodness in her! Damn girl. Show some rage!

On the other hand, her naïve nature made this too easy as I gifted her a condescending smirk while leaning forward as if sharing gossip among girls.

“Yes. I didn’t recognise you with clothes on or the dozen or so scrubby pirates servicing you.” I scratched my chin as if in deep thought while she steamed. Oh the memories!

“Or were you servicing them instead? My maids Mime and Meena certainly believes you were enjoying it after all while they worked you over.” I just love rubbing salt into wounds. Especially ones I’ve inflicted. “Do you still have the uniform I made you wear? You look absolutely ravishing in that outfit.”

The ground shook and I flew into the air to dodge a shockwave as the wandering warrior stomped once while grinding her teeth in rage. Surprisingly, she didn’t rush me in anger or even swing that sword at me to hit me from a distance. I cringed as her face went from avenging fury to heroic determination. Heroine types make me sick.

“Last chance, Werbellia. Surrender and relinquish control of your thrall, or I will end you here and now to save the girl.” The self-righteousness from her tone and posture made me gag and I despaired that my end was likely to be at her hands. Why can’t you be more like your sister Claudette or Elena? Now there was two fine example of humanity at her most flawed. If I had subjected either of them to a silver of what I did to you, they’d be chomping at the bit to dice me into twitching pieces while torturing all my relations to death. Probably they will force feed my remains to all my mortal relations too, in the form of the Vance sausage.

Okay, maybe Elena would go that far. Claudette can be intense but oh so boring, so she’d stick to messily killing me instead. Spoilsport.

I replied her generous offer by unleashing the undead I’ve gathered. Gathered wraiths and other ghosts swarmed at her like an avalanche of glowing white snow, their moans drowning out even my own thoughts. Trailing behind them were the skeletons in tight ranks while slingers and archers threw rail spikes, rocks and spears shaped from bone towards the masked Bellesoldats. I then prepared the real attack. For if Leina Vance were to be convinced that I am truly gone and spare Taylor, she has to be convinced that my granddaughter was merely dominated by me. Hero types love saving victims.

I commanded the gathered imps, demons and other assorted creatures of the Netherworld to gather, then broke their minds and melded their collective bodies into the form of a giant. Quite a beauty if I say so myself. A rainbow burst of flesh and bone of every colour imagined and unimagined, formed into a vaguely hunchback humanoid form with forearms that dragged as it walked. Standing at thirty feet, I was glad I could make something like this by simply winging it as I burrowed into the chest of my creation. Sure enough, the undead horde I’ve sent against Leina were wiped out by another burst of power from Edenfeld and that yelling trick she probably picked up from the former slave warrior Branwen.

Dirty cheater, humans aren’t supposed to be able to use something that’s supposed to be exclusive to Dragonblood but there you go. Even before Bellesoldats were a thing the Vance bloodline is bullshit.

Leina wasted no time after making short work of the undead and came after me, transforming into a bolt of light as she darted sword first into the haymaker my titan was throwing at her. Giant fist of demonic flesh met sword made to hurt demons and magical steel won the day as the arm burst open like a ripe pimple.

It felt almost too easy, seeing how she fell for my trap.

As the right arm of my creation came crashing down to the earth, the stump where the right shoulder used to unleashed a wave of shadow that caught the blonde warrior, causing her to scream in pain for the first time that night. I felt a sense of disbelief from Taylor as she witnessed what she felt was an invincible enemy actually hurt and decided to make this a teaching moment.

“Watch child, and learn. This is the power of the Swamp Witch, even if it’s only a mere fraction of Our might.” I felt a sense of longing for the rest of myself still lingering in the Continent, dormant and likely sealed by those accursed Paladins. I used my remaining hand to slap down a shadow enveloped Leina and pressed her hard against the ground. The ground, already highly abused sunk as I pressed down on my enemy and then I unleashed my trump card. The titan transformed into a mass of creeping darkness and then converged to where Leina lied screaming. As the shadows ravaged the blonde warrior, I began to draw on my essence and began to rip open a more permanent link into the Netherworld.

Demon’s Gate. If I open one right where she is, then even her protections won’t save her material body from the immaterial nature of the Netherworld. It seemed all too easy, so of course I was reminded why this was wishful thinking. Of course I can’t defeat her with so little power at my disposal. Leina Vance cut open a hole within the writhing darkness and leapt out of it towards me. As the shadow pursued her into the air, Edenfeld shone like the sun, blinding me while dispelling the darkness. I felt an iron fist knock me back onto the potholed ground, before I felt the dulled pain of something very sharp go into my gut.

Hmm, I always taught getting stabbed in the tummy would hurt a lot more, but maybe it was the sense of betrayal that stung more when Anne ran Grim Venus through my heart eleven years ago. I felt Leina’s hands grab the upper part of my face, the feel of leather covering my eyes and forehead before she began to squeeze.

Now, this one hurt a lot. I could of course start yelling in anguish and pain, even beg for my life using the fact that I was inhabiting the body of a technically, but not really human eleven year old human girl as a bargaining chip. But that wouldn’t resolve the issue of more Bellesoldats coming after my granddaughter before she can really grow into her powers and perhaps even regain the parts of me still trapped In the Continent. A more lasting solution is needed.

Besides, where’s the fun in that option? Sorry Taylor, but I will be going ahead first.

Despite my skull getting crushed like a can, I let out a wet chuckle. Again, the Bellesoldat’s merciful nature kicked in and I felt the grip on my head lessen.

“What are you laughing about now, Witch?!” Ooh, the sheer iciness and contempt in that tone! She even dehumanized me by not using my name. Well, not technically human but it’s the thought that counts. That is the humanity I love to corrupt so much.

“Are you going to crush my skull just like this then? Leave me for dead like some bandit making off with the valuables from a mark?” I heard the blonde growl as she unhanded my head and pinned down my hands with her knees, sitting on top of me.

“Kinky, Ms Vance. Did the experience with those pirates given flesh by me made you develop a taste for necrophilia?” Leina’s face remained a grim mask despite my taunting, not even a slap or spitting in my face to shut me up. I felt hurt. Am I not attractive enough for her to abuse me?

The blonde took her sword and placed the blunt side of Edenfeld’s blade on my forehead. So she’s going to do that.

Mission accomplished. You better appreciate this, child.

“Flap your gums all you want, Witch.” Ouch, I actually felt stung from that one. I knew you can do it, Leina!

“You will torment this girl no longer. Do not think I will make the mistake of targeting the physical body to finish you off.”

Despite being prepared, I still screamed when the sword began to glow.

///////////////////////////////

Waking up in hospital, feeling utterly helpless was an unpleasant experience I will recommend to no one. Aunt Aldra was watching me like a hawk from a corner of the room as I woke and immediately moved towards Dad who was snoozing on a chair next to my bed. My aunt leaned over Dad, kissed him on the forehead, before she whispered under her breath. I noticed Emma’s schoolbag on the table next to the chairs for visitors. She must have skipped classes to visit me then.

“Sleep.” Immediately, Dad’s breathing got more regular and his posture got more relaxed. Aunt Aldra placed a blanket over him before she turned her attention to me.

“Werbellia’s dead. I think it’s for real this time.” I managed to rasp out after a moment of silence. Aunt Aldra clasped my hand reassuringly as I fought back my sobs.

“I was scared, Auntie. I was helpless like a little girl when Werbellia took over to save my life.” I wanted to speak more, but Aunt Aldra gently pulled me into an embrace and stroked my shivering self.

“Oh, Taylor. You are a little girl. Don’t be so eager to grow up?” Despite wanting so much to concur with Auntie, I disagreed with her on this. It was my not growing up, lack of perspective, empathy for others outside my immediate sphere of associates and maturity that led me to show off, thinking myself invincible. I killed Werbellia and started my aunt’s troubles with the PRT due to her association with me. Despite this I allowed myself to enjoy the company and affection of my aunt before I dared to venture a question.

“So what happened?” My aunt gave a small smile as she began to recount the sequence of events. It was good to see her regain some of her usual jovial persona instead of looking worried and haggard for me.

“Well, New Wave and I arrived at the spot where you and blondie were tearing up the Trainyard. It wasn’t hard, we just had to follow the large explosions, flying bits of molten trains and lightshow.” I gave a guilty giggle despite everything that’s happened. “We arrived just in time to watch Bombshell mark you with her cattle-prod, so the adults of New Wave and Glory Girl chased her off. Vicki especially was pissed and slammed into her, literally flew into her before getting thrown her off.” Aunt Aldra regarded me intently as she continued, “Good thing we brought the Dallon kids along. Panacea barely managed to bring you back from the brink.”

I digested the information before I caught onto an interesting titbit.

“Bombshell?”

“Blondie’s designated cape name. The PRT considers Stripper, Pornstar and Bimbo as being too anti PC. I will leave it to you who suggested what name.” I shared a laugh with my aunt before I ventured my next, more uncomfortable question.

“Werbellia said the whole reason this cape named Leina was targeting me was due to what she did to her. Despite her attacking me, she was…” I struggled over the word to use to describe my assailant and Aunt Aldra came to my rescue.

“Heroic? Leina Vance is one of those few people I will gladly say deserves that title.” I found myself unable to disagree with Aunt Aldra’s assessment.

“So Werbellia, the cape whom my powers are modelled after really did do all those things?” My aunt narrowed her eyes and asked me stiffly.

“What things?” I watched her face gradually grow more terrified as I recounted what Werbellia told me she did to this blonde cape and what she taunted Leina with during the battle. My aunt clenched her fist and counted to twenty beneath her breath before she muttered.

“Yeah, sounds like mommy dearest when she’s off her rocker.”

“So Werbellia’s powers made her a horrible villain?” Despite what I’ve heard confessed freely, a part of me still wishes that my grandma’s actions were not entirely her fault.

“I’m afraid that the Devil made me do it won’t absolve Werbellia of her responsibilities for her actions, Tay.” My aunt regarded me intently before she looked me in the eye.

“After we go home, I will tell you everything about us Bellesoldats.” I felt as if scales had fallen off my eyes as I considered my aunt’s choice of terminology and the sights I’ve witnessed last night in a new light.

“We’re…not parahumans are we?”

To be honest, I didn’t need Aunt Aldra to tell me by now.

I paused as I watched Emma’s bag lying neglected on the table. My aunt followed my gaze and guessed at my question.

“Emma had left in a hurry after I told her the description of your assailant, taking only her purse and phone.” Turning her gaze away from the bag, my aunt looked at me questioningly to see if I had any answers to her behaviour. I shook my head to her unsaid question, so Aunt Aldra shrugged her shoulders.

“Emma’s bound by the geas to never betray your best interests.” My aunt said simply. Personally, I was more worried if she did something rash.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N Writing Werbellia’s a load of fun even if she’s a horrible person to anyone not her immediate family. Then she’s just mean spirited instead of being a torturing rapist. Gleefully evil bitches and bastards just draw you in however with the sheer audacity. Next chapter, Taylor’s reality filters finally overload and realise when her aunt says magic, she means it. It will also be the last arc before the start of the Queen’s Blade.  
> 


	15. Arc 1.9 Possession.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The aftermath, Taylor learns of the consequences of her actions.

A Worm/Queen’s Blade Crossover.

Arc 1.9 Possession.

/////////////////

Not having Werbellia’s presence lurking in the back of my head gave me some much needed perspective. Like entering a silent room after watching an action movie in the cinema, not having my phantom constantly giving running commentary while slipping in tips on my pow-magic allowed me to view things differently.

First thing of course was how things between Dad and myself had gone south, very south.

Small things build up to large ones, when I started thinking seriously about how things went FUBAR. How I barely react to his pet name for me, Little Fireball, named after my stubbornness and inability to sit still while brimming with energy. Or how little he knew of my life at school and how little I knew of his. Conversation at the table barely scratches the surface and that’s with Aunt Aldra facilitating.

Without her, there’s barely any kind of chatter. Dad was basically cut off from my life and I didn’t notice it because of all the business with school and cape life.

Times like this make me yearn for Mom. She’d probably be able to get us together again. Dad’s friendly enough with Aunt Aldra, but it just isn’t the same.

Which makes me kind off regret asking to drive home alone with Dad. Aunt Aldra had looked pleasantly surprised and happily arranged for the both of us to travel home together alone, despite the reluctance evident on my father’s face. That he would be hesitant to spend time alone with me caused me much grief.

Just how much of a failure of a daughter was I that Dad didn’t want to spend time with his only child?

We came to a stop at a traffic junction, the radio playing some pop song that obviously wasn’t to Dad’s taste. He barely listened to music much, but I guess he was trying to accommodate me in his own way.

So I reached out to him by bringing up the one thing I was familiar with his work life, the ferry service that’s been mothballed.

“So, um Dad?” I stammered out as he was checking the oncoming traffic. He started a bit at my sudden attempt at conversation, but he managed to give me a small smile as he looked at the rear-view mirror.

“How’s the ferry thing going on? Before Mom…you know, she was talking to a lot of important people to get it going. Any success?”

Dad’s face got more relaxed but melancholic at the mention of Mom and he gave a small sigh.

“It’s been going very smoothly actually. The Mayor managed to get a majority of the City Council to pass a resolution to restore the Ferry Terminal on the Downtown side. Once they decide the Docks are safe enough, they will release the funds for the Dockside terminal.”

I smiled in encouragement at Dad’s optimism even as I recognised the stonewalling in process. Considering the state of Brockton’s declining industry and lack of any form of major investment on the horizon, things are only going to get worse. So the safe enough Dockside is not happening. But having the funds officially earmarked was a silver lining at least.

“That’s great news!” I said as brightly as I could. Which is pretty bright as a matter of fact. Dad’s smile grew wider as he continued the journey home. Realising I wasn’t really enjoying the music, he switched off the radio and continued cruising towards Lord Street. I sat back into my seat, comfortable at this small success in reconnecting with my father.

“So, how’s your juggling between cape life and school?”

“Dad?” I blinked at his question, certain that I had misheard or he had made a slip.

“I don’t exactly approve of you being a vigilante, especially if you’re going to be so irresponsible with your powers.” Dad said heatedly in an obvious reference to my actions as Mist Phantom, “But if New Wave were to take you in or at least guide you, then at least knowing you’re under the wing of established heroes will set aside some of my worries.”

“How long have you known?” I considered my words and added hastily.” And I’m sorry Dad.”

“Apology accepted, my little fireball.” I interrupted my dad with a chopping motion.

“Stop that. That whole calling me my little fireball thing. Sorry Dad, but it’s so much of a mouthful and it makes me break out in goose pimples.” Dad took it in good humour and gave a small chuckle.

“Fine, how about kiddo then?” I shivered again.

“Just my name, Dad.”

“Very well, Taylor. You always were a fast learner, so you having a head start in adolescent rebellion isn’t a surprise.” I shrank back at Dad’s quip, embarrassed at how I’ve derailed the whole conversation.

“Anyways, to get back on track.” Dad pulled into the driveway and turned around to face me.

“I’ve always suspected things were unusual with your mom and yourself. After you were born, Annette began exhibiting signs that she was more than just a simple activist with Lustrum back in her college days. I had suspected she was a retired cape who turned to civilian life and was Mastering her way through high society.”

“What made you change your mind?” It was fascinating, the way Dad started to just tell me things that I’ve never suspected of him. I did my best to encourage this openness in him.

“That New Wave, then known as the Brockton Bay Brigade, would closely associate with Annette. If she was a Master out to use her powers to dominate Brockton’s upper class, then the New Wave would not stand idly by or be so close to her. I do know that parahuman parents sire children with a much higher chance of triggering, so I wasn’t too surprised that you are a parahuman.”

“Then…” I hesitated to ask Dad, but he gave me an out and anticipated my question.

“Why didn’t I ask your mother about her being a retired cape? Because she’s retired and didn’t show any sign of going back in. And I only suspected and didn’t know for sure till you made a scene two nights in a row.”

“So since Mom didn’t seem to be going back into cape life, you left things be till now?”

“Pretty much. I still wasn’t sure how Annette cheated the scans of the PRT she took when you were eighteen months old, but considering it was her past and it stayed there I didn’t want to rake it up.”

Not raking up the past. I guessed Dad still had somethings he was uncomfortable with regarding my double life and Mom’s. His body language screamed he was repressing something hard.

But I guess neither of us wanted to broach any deeper for now as he opened the door and helped me into the house. Amy had actually healed my body completely, but I wanted to spend more time with Dad in a semi open manner not treading on eggshells like we are doing so often recently.

It was a good feeling, one that I wanted to last.

///////////////////

Evening came and Aunt Aldra quickly met me inside Mom’s den after a hasty dinner. Dad retired for an early night and I sat down opposite my aunt as she turned on the defences Mom had left behind. I decided to begin my questioning with the most obvious one.

“So we are not actually parahumans. What are we?”

“Half demons, technically speaking. But the half part is usually so irrelevant that most people who know of us do not really care about the human distinction and just label us demons or more commonly, demon spawn.”

I regarded my aunt with a critical eye as she grinned at me.

“Demons, as in evil spirits from Hell to torment the souls of the living and offer people contracts?”

“If you want to be cliché, then yes.”

I took a calming breath to digest the information and wondered if I was simply indulging in my Aunt’s fantasies after suffering from PTSD due to the crushing defeat last night.

“Okay, so when you refer to the Continent, you’re referring to Hell?”

“What? No, of course not.” Aunt Aldra exclaimed in shock. “The Continent is simply the Continent. A landmass in a world apart from here.”

“So Mom and you were from another Earth?” My aunt frowned and replied me with a question.

“Does Earth Aleph have two moons? Do you think the other Earths have it?” I recalled my studies on the other Earths discovered so far. None of them reveal any drastic changes as two moons on Earth. I felt excitement as I considered the implications of what my aunt was telling me.

“So you’re from another reality? One where demons and angels are real?” My face darkened and I quaked involuntarily from the memory of a sharp blade piercing my gut.

“That woman, the Bellesoldats Bombshell. She is a demon too? An angel? Their version of a parahuman?”

“Nothing quite as dramatic as a Continental parahuman. She got her strength simply by being born into a family of extremely powerful warriors, vigorous training from very talented instructors and very selective breeding.”

My heart skipped a beat as I thought of what my aunt told me.

“So the humans in the Continent are like that? And she’s still considered a possible example for a baseline human on the Continent?”

My aunt regarded me carefully before she replied.

“Yes. Not all who strive for her will reach her level, much like not all boxers become champion. But you do not need to be something more than human to be like Leina Vance”

The casualness with which she answered drove home how alien was the Continent compared to Earth Bet. An entire world’s worth of people who have the potential to be like the monster that gave me the biggest beat down of my life.

“Bombshell called me a Witch, and I’ve heard Werbellia called me the Swamp Witch before.” I saw Aunt Aldra shuffle uncomfortably at my line of questioning, but maintained eye contact with me.

“Tell me what the Swamp Witch is and why I am supposed to be her?”

Aunt Aldra then did. How I became the Swamp Witch, how my birth mother Annette Hebert who I never knew sacrificed herself so that I could live. How Annelotte Kreutz who raised me died in a foreign world because of a curse from me. How because I couldn’t be trusted to keep a secret a web of lies were spun to keep Dad in the dark from the true nature of our fucked up family.

I bolted for the door after realising I could not teleport from the den before I was tied up by a dozens of serrated metal spines. Aunt Aldra looked at me warily, Demons Blade at the ready.

“Humour me, Taylor. What were you planning to do?”

“Confess all this to Dad, then find a way to kill myself.” I said with a deceptive calm.

I bottled away my roiling emotions into the surging tide of wraiths that manifested within the den, since it was the only way I can actually answer anything without having a breakdown. Yeah for soul enslaving necromancy!

“And what will that achieve other than add another tragedy to this family, Taylor Hebert? In less than a month, we had one death and another die again. Would you like to add to that toll?”

My wave grew more rowdy as I spat out my answer. The wailing from my swarm was deafening.

“I took three lives already. At least it would be the last one.”

A stinging slap on my right cheek as Aunt Aldra glared at me.

“Make if six, Taylor. Danny and mine. Don’t you dare waste the lives of those who died so you may live.”

I really wanted to let myself indulge in belated proper mourning for my dead mothers and grandmother, but I would not be able to ask anything more if I lost myself in self-pity. I let my wraiths do it for me.

“What do I do now? What about Dad?”

My aunt released the serrated chains that bound me as she stood guard over me.

“You prepare yourself for the Queen’s Blade in two years’ time and move on from there.”

“And Dad?”

“You let us adults worry about that one. We are the ones who laid the seeds for that mess. We should be the ones to clean it up.”

I looked my aunt in her one visible eye that wasn’t covered by metal spines.

“You will need a miracle to do that.”

My aunt helped me up from my kneeling positon and patted away imaginary dust on me.

“My dear, we got one.”

////////////

Emma Barnes

////////////

I arrived outside Maria’s apartment after Ms Aldra told me what the cape that attacked Taylor last night unprovoked looked like. I didn’t want to believe that the tutor I admired so much could stab my best friend.

My footsteps leaden with dread, I knocked on the door. Even through the thick wooden doors, I smelled antiseptic and other unknown medicines from inside. Maria de Vaux despite her narcolepsy was next to invincible to hurt, so there was no real need for her to have an entire pharmacy’s worth of wound treatment meds.

Unless of course, she got driven off by an enraged group of Heroes after nearly killing an eleven year old girl.

“Come in, Emma. Door’s unlocked.” Had I not known what she was capable of, I’d be worried for her safety by leaving the door unlocked. Now I realised the lock was to protect the others from her.

I gingerly opened the door into her apartment and saw Maria seated on a sofa with bottles of medicine, bandages and cotton swabs strewn over the table. She wore nothing except a pair of shorts, her nearly nude body marked with fading bruises, cuts and other injuries.

I closed the door by habit, then wined as the doors closed with a dull thud. I thought of leaving them open in case I had to run, but realised from what Vicki told me of her powers, Maria was too fast and too strong to be stopped if she wanted to catch me.

But a part of me wanted to believe in her, so here I am in the dragon’s lair all by my lonesome.

Purple eyes regarded me as I stood close to the door, nervously working up the courage to stammer out my question. I was shaking like a leaf, but I wanted to believe in Maria’s goodness not being an act.

“Why did you try to kill Taylor?”

Confusion, followed by enlightenment and resignation was clearly visible on the face of my tutor who I regarded as a role model.

“You knew the Swamp Witch’s current incarnation.” I gathered my courage as I puffed up my chest to look Maria in the eye.

“Why?”

Maria sighed as she put away her bandages and walked up to me. I backed away to the door as she looked me over with a discerning eye before she nodded in understanding.

“Hmm, so that’s why you’ve come here out of the blue.”

I did not know where I got the courage, but I snapped at her.

“Answer the question!” Despite the gentle smile she gave me, I still quailed before Maria.

“I wasn’t. But after the Swamp Witch got a new body and began to terrorise this nice city, I knew I had to act. So I tracked down her scent and exorcized her last night. Pity the locals are ignorant of such matters.”

Maria had no reason to lie to me and she didn’t seem like she was lying either.

“You’re saying Taylor got Mastered?” My tutor beamed at my quick understanding of the issue.

“Very likely, though she should be free by now.” I heaved a sigh of relief at my apparently benign intentions of my tutor before I realised one thing odd.

“So why did you stab her? She could have died!” Maria dismissed my concern with a simple wave of the hand.

“Considering her demon’s body, it takes a lot more than that to really finish her or put her in real danger.”

I was about to yell at Maria for her callous attitude towards my friend’s safety before she fixed me with a hard glare that silenced me.

“Are you aware of the geas you are currently bound by?”

“Geas?” Maria noted my look of confusion and continued.

“A magical promise that binds someone with varying consequences if broken.”

A latent Master effect? I paled as I recalled the promise Mrs Hebert asked of me when I went into her den and saw that beautiful throne on top of the crystal hill. My tutor nodded in understanding as she noticed my changed expression.

“Well, at least I do not see it being fully activated yet. So long as the conditions are not met, you’d never know it was there.”

I told Maria of the promise I made with Mrs Hebert and she nodded in understanding.

“Well, going by the words of the geas, so long as your friend Taylor doesn’t win the Queen’s Blade, the geas will never kick into effect.”

I felt a sense of relief at the stay of execution and also a wave of determination

Sorry, Taylor. Besties or not, I’m not going to be enslaved by you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N. Shorter than usual chapter here.
> 
> Hopefully, this address the issues I had in some of the preceding chapters of Taylor not being very relatable to people. Sometimes I find it hard to make the combination work. As always, please give your thoughts and questions you may have. My sincere thanks for staying with this story for so long.


	16. Interlude- La Bellesoldats

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The other capes and Bellesoldats go about their lives.

A Worm/Queen’s Blade Crossover.

Interlude- La Bellesoldats

A/N The endgame before moving on to the next arc. Multiple POV switches ahead.

Also thinking of doing a PHO interlude after this. Contribute if you can.

More Author’s Notes at end of chapter.

/////////////////

Glory Girl

///////////////

I nursed my wrecked right hand, courtesy of that new cape when I gave her a flying punch to the chest and the blowback crushed my right hand. Well technically, the damage is from the blowback that’s hiding behind the initial counterattack. That bitch’s blowback has blowback. Goddam cheat! Same with the broken right rib she’s given me when she punched me before Mom’s energy sword gave her a gash on the shoulder. But the cut didn’t penetrate as deeply as it should have, so she somehow managed to dodge an attack from a blind spot and turned a literal disarming strike into a glancing blow instead.

This woman is downright dangerous, but I’m still going to kick her ass.

While the PRT catalogued the damage done to the Trainyard after blondie and Mist Phantom threw down, Scion knows how hard and fast those two went, since everything was over in less than five minutes. The Elephant Mounds looked like some deranged Tinker had gone to town melting down most of the rusted hulks that laid here and the ground that was strewn with rocks was reduced to a series of smouldering craters with the rusted tracks melted into slag thanks to the brawl. Ames was working hard at patching up Mist Phantom after that psycho blonde stabbed her in the belly and marked her forehead with that Tinkertech sword of hers.

I looked at my wrecked hand again, the icepack starting to melt quickly from the ambient heat generated from the aftermath of the fight. Ames had once confided in me that Mrs Hebert’s body was weird when compared to others she later treated, which probably explains why my sister was having such a problem dealing with Mist Phantom’s injuries. But we kept Mrs Hebert’s status from Mom, since outing a cape-even retired ones-was taboo. Mrs Hebert seemed like the rare specimen of a cape who quit and stayed quit.

Mom and Aunt Sarah for their part were actually sticking their neck out for Mist Phantom, refusing to hand her over by playing dumb. We placed a simple ski mask over Taylor after seeing her Changer form revert to her usual self, you know, tall and intimidating despite being a few months just past puberty. The adults started saying they had no idea that Mist Phantom was here getting her ass kicked by a new cape or that the new trigger that was wandering in a daze wearing the ski mask was indeed the wanted Mist Phantom.

The PRT can’t prove shit of course, since no one had bothered staying after Mist Phantom went all spooky and chased out the inhabitants. And this place being what it is, no one finds it important enough to place cameras since they’d get stolen anyway. Only the gangs on the lookout for Tinkers prowled here, but since it was fight night between Mom and Gorgon, most of the important capes were there having fun.

I walked over to Gorgon, who was obediently staying put for the sake of her niece, listening to Miss Militia and Velocity talk her ears off on the perils of associating with known Villains. I beat a hasty retreat to avoid having their droning spiel assault my ears. I didn’t admire them having to do this to every Rogue parahuman they meet tilting to the dark side, but them the works on a government paycheck. Gorgon had always been playful in the way she fought, a whimsical air shrouded the battlefield when she took to it. That’s part of what made the fights between Mom and her such must view TV, since Gorgon was shameless in flirting with cape fans or the camera in between bouts and gave interviews like a natural. Despite her half face being covered in steel spinal cords, she was very popular with cape fans.

Her performance tonight was jarring in how efficient, brutal her attacks and movements were. The way her metal covered spines twisted and rained down on the field, her blaster powers enveloping the place and that scream of rage that shook the ground. Gorgon was livid when she saw her niece pinned down, screaming away with a glowing blade on her forehead. Armsmaster was speaking with my parents and the Pelham adults as I made my way over there, just in time to hear them suggesting cape names.

Well, Carpe Diem and all that. Just because I’m carefree doesn’t mean I’m dumb you know.

“Bimbo!”

Five pairs of adult parahuman eyes fell on me. I gave my biggest smile and threw out another suggestion.

“Pornstar!”

“Victoria!” Mom yelled at me in her best Mom voice. I pretended to be deaf by throwing out another suggestion.

“Stripper! Final offer!” I think Armsmaster almost laughed. It looked like one that wasn’t practiced into a robotic routine either, but that’s impossible.

“Bombshell!” Amy’s voice carried clearly from across the field where she had finished her work on Mist Phantom. Mom and Aunt Sarah actually dropped their jaws, gaping in surprise. I preened with pride since it’s obviously my influence that’s got introverted little Amy to assert herself.

“I concur with Panacea. Please designate the new parahuman as Bombshell.” Huh? Mom approving of a cape name that’s both sexist and insulting?

Well that confirms it. Mom’s been mastered by Amy. Unfazed, Armsmaster put away his recorder and gazed at the new cape being fuzzed over by Gorgon. Way to make it obvious, genius.

“I suppose that New Wave is adamant on taking custody of the new trigger’s welfare then?”

“We are.” I don’t really hear Mom and Aunt Sarah say anything in agreement, much less unison so this caught me by surprise. Armsmaster grunted and nodded his assent.

“I will inform Director Piggot that the New Wave is taking over then.” To my surprise, my dad Flashbang was the one who acted as our group’s spokesman. This night is getting weird!

“Please do.” Dad! He hasn’t been taking a leadership role for years now! And with that, the deal is done. We have a new cape who is totally not Mist Phantom. Go team!

With that out of the way and the ambulance taking totally not Mist Phantom to a cape ward, Aunt Sarah and I took to the skies before Gorgon flew after us. Since when could she fly?

“Thanks Sarah.” The sincerity really touched me, but why did she leave me out? With a twinkle in her eyes, Gorgon turned to face me, her eyes laughing again.

“You too, Glory Girl. Most people don’t keep their hands after landing a fist on that woman when it’s launched in anger.” With that said, the silver haired cape left us and trailed the departing ambulance.

Pssh yeah sure. Miss Masked stripper is sooo scary.

Okay, so she actually is pretty scary, but I can totally take her!

“Hubris, Victoria. Remember what comes after that.” Damn, Aunt Sarah read my thoughts. Must be a mom thing.

Still, once Ames patched me up and a quick visit to Taylor tomorrow, I’m totally going to tag Bombshell’s skanky ass once I find her.

//////////

Aldra

/////////

I’ve seen it too many times, that haunted look on Taylor’s face. Most prominently in my memory was of course on the face of my sister Annelotte during her more despondent moments, but also during my eight years reign, when prisoners were bound and led to me I saw it too. it was a look that was too common. When the Fang failed me. When I crushed the opposition from the nobility that loathed me. It was a constant companion for the vanquished, the fallen. That haunted terrified look was now etched on the face of my only living relative.

Taylor laid next to me in her night clothes after we decided to spend the night in Anne’s old atelier. I kept the up the defences on the atelier itself and also laid extra alarm charms, raised several barriers and set layered mana fields to boost the defences around the house. Taylor had paled when I mentioned setting up more layers of protection tonight since she thought I would have her set them up. Poor girl is so shaken she can barely use her magic properly. Likely her misconception on how necromancy actually works has stricken her with needless guilt. Yet out of all four of us in the family, she’s the only one whose hands are clean. I suppose that having a conscience easily pricked was a good sign. Light knows that I’ve hardened mine so long ago.

“Auntie…is something wrong with me?” the hesitant whisper, so meek and withdrawn sounded so alien on my often fiery, confident niece. I hugged her closer to assure her before replying in a low voice.

“What is?”

“The wraiths and other assorted con…ghosts.” Taylor quickly changed her nomenclature to reflect her new knowledge of her powers. She turned around to face me, giving me a sudden shock as I saw her deathly pale skin, red eyes and knife ears. Only a partial transformation, since I did not see the horns or felt the bony tail. At least she doesn’t go on a blood lusted frenzy like her mother does when she turns. Small blessings, especially since she’s not going on about how she’s stolen the life of the real Taylor who died along with her birth mother like she was just hours before.

“What about them?” I asked as softly and casually as I could, not wanting my perceptive niece to detect my surprise. Taylor bit her quivering lips and I was about to assure her that It was okay to be afraid of the wraiths now that she knew the nature of them when she answered.

“I’m not afraid of them. As a matter of fact, I want them to be around me as they usually do, accompanying me, attending to me. I feel alone, neglected without them there.” My niece buried her face in my chest, guilt dripping from her muffled tone.

From the boarded up mineshaft at the end of the room, I saw the curtain covering it stir, ghostly wisps creeping from below the curtain and formed shapes of night terrors that stalked the dreams of the living. Despite her reluctance now, Taylor’s nature attracted the stray undead anyway and an underground chamber in the shadow of Brockton’s leyline was a nest of them. Her presence alone encourages their growth, making them far more tangible as their burgeoning numbers encouraged their growth. My niece stirred upon sensing their presence, turning her back against the room to face the wall. I hugged her from behind and felt her lean back into me. The room smelled of lavender and jasmine that drowned out the stench of the Swamp, prompting in me memories of my recently passed sister I had spent a good decade searching for.

“But it’s wrong. I don’t want to keep the dead chained to me like some ornaments. I shouldn’t be denying people their final rest and stripping them of their dignity.”

In the boarded up mineshaft I saw it coming. The bottom planks started to creak before they splintered as the sound of flesh trudging along stone echoed from the half exposed cavity. A crawling cadaver, skin waterlogged and peeling off with stringy hair pulled itself into the atelier. The spectre raised its distorted neck and glared at me with a face that once resembled something human, possibly an Asian female. Now it’s simply a collection of eyes leaking fluid, botched skin and an exposed, failing scalp. The summoned undead was clad in a white dress, missing patches of cloth along the skirt, obviously worm eaten. It emanated a putrid stench of wet flesh and hair and I heard the croaking death rattle from the creature that heeded my nieces’ subconscious call.

My niece turned around and sat up on the bed and looked intently at the abomination. I sighed deeply at the manifestation of the shambles of my niece’s mental state if she were to summon something as unpleasant as this. If this Onryo were to escape, everyone on the street will die by sunrise. Taylor gestured for the spirit to approach her like other girls would a stray cat or dog, and it crawled over to our bed, the sound of creaking joints tapping on wooden floor echoing away. But I had enough of this and summoned Demon’s Blade before I blasted the ghost out of existence with a single blast of magic. My niece looked at me with a look of self-pity, but I sniffed in annoyance.

“Did you see that, Auntie? I should have been terrified, but I felt nothing than a mild curiosity because I knew I was the greater monster. Even in death, that woman could find no rest because of me.” Taylor whispered, partially to me but also to herself. The self-loathing was on full display here.

Oh silly child. I guess it’s time for some magic lessons and a lecture on the nature of the undead. I gently stroked the long hair of my niece that so resembles her human mother’s as I began slowly narrating the truth of her magic.

“Taylor. How many individual wraiths do you think you summoned when you shrouded the city in a fog made of them? How many skeletons were buried under the Trainyard ready to be risen when Werbellia fought Leina Vance?”

My niece did me proud as it took her only a moment to do the math, though instinctively knowing the numbers of the “dead” appearing helped. I beamed at her presence of mind even in her grief as her face turned up to look at me, her eyes still puffy and red.

“Too many for each of them to actually have been a person deceased in Brockton Bay. People didn’t settle here till two centuries ago. Not enough dead humans to reach a fraction of that number.” Her face scrunched up as she pondered the math and her ideas of the undead. She looked to me with questioning eyes.

“So what are they?”

Good question. Now you are finally learning.

“Wraiths and other mindless undead like skeletons, zombies or even that ghoul you conjured up from your fevered imagination are not formerly human, certainly not as popular culture says are the souls of tortured dead. The dead serve as fuel to create them. There are some wraiths who have the memories, personalities and powers of people passed, but make no mistake about it child. The undead are borne of life and humanity, but even the most lifelike wraith and vampire isn’t the same person passed on. For most people, death renders them fuel to be exploited by those who know how.”

I decided to leave aside the fact that Werbellia as the Swamp Witch had indeed ordered and even participated in great glee the deaths of victims in some truly horrific ways. Violent, prolonged deaths were fuel for generation of extremely violent poltergeists due to their effect on the mind-set of the necromancer who ends up conjuring them. No need to implant ideas in her head as Taylor gave me a questioning frown while she pouted at me.

“So ghosts are people? No wait, that’s incorrect. Ghosts are made when someone or something dies, but they’re not the person or animal it was?” Taylor scratched her hair in frustration and I was gladdened she was distracted from the trauma of her revelation for now at least.

“But my mom, my real mom. You told me that when she died to save me from the Swamp Witch who killed Mom and nearly me, my mother’s soul fought both Mom and the Swamp Witch.” The statement was confusing with how many moms was in it, but I suppose as long as my niece was able to somehow tell them apart, I should just run with it. But her implying Annelotte wasn’t her real mother upset me.

“Annelotte is still your mother as much as Annette.” I snapped at Taylor and immediately regretted it. I pulled my niece in for another hug and continued to my lesson with her in my embrace.

“Some people, of great strength and significance endure as individual souls after they die. Your mother’s possession of a soul of her own shocked Anne-my Anne who raised you- and till the day she passed on, your mother never ceased to express her admiration at the mental fortitude of your birth mother.”

A small sniffle, as Taylor fidgeted in my embrace. I prepared for her to burst into tears again like she did after she stopped trying to run out of the atelier’s doors, but I suppose even the tears of an eleven year old has limits.

“I wish I knew her, my other mom.” Taylor whispered to me. Well, at least her mother would be worth knowing. Mine was just loathsome to the core.

At least, that’s what I should be saying. For all her faults and wickedness, she still died ensuring Taylor would be temporarily cleared of suspicion of being an evil like her grandmother eventually became. Surely Werbellia had some goodness in her once, considering her love for Pope Stephan and in her own twisted way for Annelotte and myself.

My niece then fixed me with a determined stare, and I wondered if I was going to enjoy the inevitable question.

“Can I bring Mom back? With my magic? I already know I can create life after my experiments with Insides.”

Yep, definitely didn’t enjoy this one.

“No Taylor. You can created a new life similar to Anne, but she will not be your mother. She may have her memories of the once alive Anne Hebert Kreutz, but make no mistake. She is a totally different being, a wraith wearing the flesh of your parent. “

It pained me to see my darling niece stricken like this, but its best she is dispelled of the notion that bringing back the beloved dead with necromancy leads to anything except grief and tragedy. Still, the gears in her head must be working overtime, because she then shot me another troublesome question.

“You mentioned something of Angels and Heaven? God is real over there?” That glint in her eyes tells me all I needed to know where this path is leading. I sighed inwardly while preparing for the inevitable.

“Can He bring Mom back?” I shook my head at her questions and saw her face fall, dejected. “Myself or anyone in living memory has never seen an omnipotent deity thus far in Heaven, though the Head Angel herself and perhaps the Divine Beasts perhaps are close to that?”

“Maybe if I ask them?” Oh Taylor. So inquisitive and intelligent, yet so naïve.

“They won’t, my dear. Bringing someone back from the dead, doing so breaks one of the greatest taboos they’ve set on themselves. That the dead are to remain dead so that the living can move on.”

I studied my niece’s heartbroken expression before I cursed myself for manipulating her down the path I wanted her to take by laying down the bait.

“However, the Queen does have the right to seek a Divine blessing. One wish per reign subject to the limits of divine power. Just make sure you word yours carefully. They can be rather…slippery when it comes to granting wishes they don’t like granting.”

Like how I’ve asked for my sister back twice during my two reigns as Queen. The Head Angel said it’s already done and then scooted off, since my blessing is already granted. Feathered whore can’t even be assed to tell me that my sister was pretending to be a man. I turned my attention towards my niece, her eyes burning with determination.

“So if I become Queen, I can bring Mom back? For real?” The excitement on her face made me almost want to skip informing her of the fine print.

“But which one, if it’s even possible?” I queried Taylor, hoping to get an answer to my satisfaction. “Your birth mother Annette Hebert? Or the one who raised you, Annelotte Kreutz? One life is one miracle.”

Steely determination accented Taylor’s answer, her gaze met mine with an unshakeable confidence. Confidence I had mistakenly thought would be lost after her crushing defeat at the hands of Leina. Dear Anne, she is truly your daughter.

“Then I will simply win twice.”

/////////////////////////

Leina Vance

////////////////////////

I carefully watched my student that Zoe had entrusted to me to guide into a fine young woman. The revelation that a geas has been placed on her had shaken Emma greatly, and I wondered if I had erred in making known the existence of the bond placed on her.

No, seeing the fleur-de-lis below a stallion’s head appearing in Emma’s irises when she had confronted me in my own home was proof enough that despite being supposedly inactive, the geas had already influenced my charge to be more than unreasonably loyal and foolhardy in defence of her friend. Annelotte had used the Royal Presence to place a geas on this child for reasons unknown to me. Had I not once wore the Royal Regalia before giving up the throne to my sister Claudette, I would have been in the dark about its influence. Does Annelotte feel so strongly about Emma that she wants to bind my student to her daughter? And why is the Knight Queen here on an alien world?

Or I could simply be mistaking natural foolhardiness, the mistakes of upbringing of which I would then be held responsible and budding gallantry for the work of compulsion magic. Sometimes, self-sacrificial but ill-conceived bullheadedness can be indistinguishable from mystically compelled actions. Perhaps a mix of both? I sighed audibly, prompting a worried look from Emma.

“Maria, is there something else you wanted to tell me?” I gave her an assuring smile as I shook my head. Her anxiety didn’t lessen at my attempts and she pressed on with more issues of her own.

“Taylor’s mom placed a Master effect on me. Tay knew and never told me. How could she!” Emma’s pixie face, already showing the signs of budding beauty at her tender age, tightened with a mix of disappointment and rage at perceived betrayal. Emma can be…vindictive when she feels she was crossed and while she wasn’t as bad as Elena can be, her tendencies to lash out for the sake of security is a worrying sign. Signs I must address as the red flags they are lest she turns out like my younger, not all there sister.

“Emma, Taylor is your friend of many years correct?” A quick nod and a look of confusion as she wondered where I was leading with my line of questioning. “Where cape ID’s are considered so important, you sometimes keep them from spouses and family.” I placed my hands on her shoulders and fixed her with a stern look, prompting Emma to flush from the shame of being chastened by me.

“Emma, I do not pretend to understand her reasons, but I can tell from her actions she considers you a friend if she chose you to reveal her secrets.”

Tears of frustration welled in the eyes of my charge as she shot me an accusing look.

“Why are you defending her? You’re the one who told me her mom had set some kind of latent mind control on me, and now you’re saying she’s a close friend who won’t hurt me?” I could almost hear her grinding her teeth in frustration as she glowered at me.

“What are you playing at? You stabbed my best friend in the belly and now you’re defending her?” So cynical at a young age, or should I consider that a sign of wisdom and maturity? Still, Emma did hit the right buttons as I flinched at her accusation. Stabbing a host body inhabited by Werbellia wasn’t my proudest moment. That it took the Witch’s taunting to remind me of the innocent party being held hostage by my enemy, snapping me out of the red mist that had descended before my eyes was a stain I do not think I will be removing anytime soon.

“Emma. I did not stab your friend Taylor. I stabbed the Swamp Witch reborn when she seized the body of your friend as a vessel and manifested herself fully in the flesh.” I pulled my hands away from Emma’s shoulder after hearing a gasp of pain as my grip on her shoulders tightened reflexively from the aroused memories of that hated wretch. I could almost feel and smell the breath of Werbellia’s minions on my skin as her henchmen and the Witch herself forced themselves on me, their taunts and leers ringing in my ears as the days and nights I spent as their captive became vivid in my mind again. I shut my eyes to calm myself, but the darkness only made me relive being trapped in the ship’s hold even more.

“Maria, you’re shaking. What did this Swamp Witch do to you?” Emma whispered in the softest tone she can muster as she kept close to me but refrained from touching me. I saw her eyes hardened as she came to her own conclusion.

“Your trigger event. Mrs Hebert was responsible for your trigger, wasn’t she?” Look before you leap, young Emma. Some conclusions can break your leg.

“No, it was the grandmother of your friend who was responsible for my grief, though I suspect your friend didn’t know too much about that part of her family tree.” Trigger event? Was it something to do with those parahumans that inhabit this world? I dug into my vague recollections of these strange powered beings that are so dominant here that even I who consciously made an effort to avoid their news would know about them, despite my best efforts. These capes were sometimes the only things everyone spoke about.

“Consider me out of touch, Emma. What is a trigger event again?” Emma gave me a blank look, staring at me as if I had muttered obscenities about her parentage.

“You know, the thing that made you a cape?” It was incidents much like this that reminds me that the majority people of Earth Bet are very much atheists in every sense of the word who would view anything unexplainable by mundane science through the lenses of parahumanity. Not that I blame them, for I had viewed even the most mundane clockwork here through the views of alchemy and magic when I first arrived thanks to a faulty Queen’s Gate. Were it not for Zoe whom I rescued from the crossfire of a cape fight, I would be hopelessly lost for I barely spoke their version of Trade.

But first, to clear up some misconceptions my charge has of me.

“Emma, I’m not a parahuman.” My student gave me a disbelieving look and she probably thinks I’m insane as well.

“So you’re like Musketeer? Ok then. Whatever you say.” Somethings are just not worth fighting over right now, like how to address one set of superhumans from the others. So I gave in and let sleeping dogs lie. There are far more pressing issues to address.

“Regarding your friend, Taylor.” I saw Emma’s face darken once again at the mention of perceived treachery by her friend. The knife of betrayal cuts deep indeed. “Give her a chance and speak with her. I observed her for much of the day after she left her school before our fight, and found her a personable child even if a tad distracted.” I knelt down face to face my student, and she once again blushed at my proximity. Hot flushes at her age? Must be coming down with something.

“If those heroes from New Wave were so eager to defend her and from my own observation of the child, I do believe she is still fundamentally good. You do want her to be your friend still, don’t you?” Emma nodded eagerly, her blush still plainly visible. Poor girl must be distraught at the thought of losing her friend, if the nervous sweating is any indication. I took her hand and brought her to the sofa before placing some bandages in her hand. I then turned my back to her, exposing the injuries that lined my back.

“Now, if you will. Be a dear and help me dress and clean my wounds since you’re here.”

Hmm, her hands are shaking. I really should inform Zoe to have her looked at.

//////////////

Brandish

////////////

I sat with my husband Mark three tables away from where Gorgon sat in costume, her coffee untouched while awaiting the arrival of Bombshell to this open air bistro downtown. Gorgon had posted an open invitation for Bombshell on the Parahumans Online forum, prompting a response from the newly debuted villain via private messaging. No doubt the PRT would have assets and allied Protectorate heroes in the vicinity, watching for trouble. Wisely, the PRT has refrained from openly declaring the alignment of Bombshell despite her flashy opening performance, which means that the blonde cape might be tempted to act more openly. Considering that Bombshell had yet to do anything more than engage in a fight with a designated villain, this makes it easier for PRT to hedge their bets and allowed them greater freedom of movement and choice. If only the PRT were so wise most of the time.

For a masked cape to be present at any establishment in costume, even if it is a supposedly non-hostile one, was a nerve wracking experience for any non-powered person. Capes no patrol were bad news, and if the cape was doing anything masked that meant brewing trouble. My self-declared nemesis waved at a particularly strapping young waiter, who nervously walked to the Rogue. I didn’t manage to stifle my groan as I watched Gorgon shamelessly flirt with the younger man, before I whirled my head towards my husband who let out a small laugh at my distressed reaction. Mark returned my hopefully artic glare with a warm smile, which totally didn’t cause me flush like a newlywed.

“We really have to thank Gorgon for all she has done for the family.” I snorted in disdain at my husband’s sentiments.

“For being a general pain in the ass and being a bad influence on the children? Or is the part where she somehow dragged me into a series of staged fights that displaced Empire 88’s dogfighting rings as the most favoured hotspot for gambling?” The pro-wrestling matches with Gorgon that pretended to be a cape fight had degenerated into a farce, with the only reason I even participated was because the PR dividends and crowd control benefits were invaluable. With most capes in attendance, cape related violence fell during those events, leaving only the most dangerous parahumans not in attendance and the PRT being able to focus more easily on monitoring them.

“The duels with Gorgon serve a greater purpose, Carol. I never thought that I’d see someone as severe as you being catcalled by fans.” I huffed at my husband’s comments but he continued undeterred.

“But the greatest boon was the fact that you were able to react the way you did just now. Reacting openly with shock at a friend’s antics, being able to express yourself emotionally to both our children and the two of us being a proper couple again.” I decided to not deign the absurd statement by Mark the dignity of an answer as I purposefully focused on Gorgon’s table where a nervously sweating waiter was beating a hasty retreat from a visibly pouting Gorgon.

Neither Gorgon nor Aldra are my friends. I would take a bullet for either one, but I sure as hell am not their friend.

I tensed as I heard a murmur from the meagre late lunch crowd in the bistro, as I saw a familiar blonde cape striding down the sidewalk towards Gorgon’s table. Burgundy eyes narrowed as Gorgon kept watched on the approaching Brute. In broad daylight and minus the chaos of a melee, I saw how little Bombshell’s costume actually covered. Her entire midriff was exposed, while her black leggings were so tight they were barely stockings. Her arms were exposed barring some blue gauntlets with yellow trimmings and a red gem set in the middle. I saw her shuriken like shield hanging on her waist from her belt along with her sheathed sword. The lower half of her face was covered with a metal mask that exposed her mouth, while bright purple irises scanned the surroundings for traps and possible escape routes.

So an experienced fighter at least, though given her lack of reputation despite her prowess a likely new trigger. If her powers didn’t drive her insane or remove any sense of shame, then she must have an iron will because I would die from embarrassment if my powers were dependent on me wearing something like that. Mark and I kept ourselves alert but non-hostile. We do not think that Bombshell was so dense as to not have noticed we were seated her and Gorgon had warned her to expect some form of company other than herself. But keeping a somewhat respectful distance away from the table out of costume signalled to Bombshell we are not going to initiate violence. The new cape gave us a slight nod to acknowledge us before taking a seat opposite Gorgon, unstrapping and placing her sword to the side of the table.

“Hello, Gorgon. So it really was you.” Gorgon gave a sly smile as she leaned her own weapon on the side of the table.

“Hello to you too, Bombshell. I’m hurt that you never really noticed me despite my relative fame here in Brockton Bay.” The new Villain then said something in French, which caused Gorgon to reply in the same language. I focused my attention on the negotiating duo, on alert for any cues of possible violence breaking out. It frustrated me to no end that the conversation was carried out in a language I did not speak, but Gorgon had given fair warning that it might happen. So we settled to our roles as backup in case things got physical. Considering that Gorgon had offered her a truce for this meeting, it would be bad form to strike first if Bombshell didn’t attack, so I merely watched, alert for any signs of bad faith.

The exchange between the two foreign capes was mostly even in tone, with only a few raised voices at select phrases which I suspect was in reference to some event in their shared history. Gorgon had mentioned Bombshell was an old acquaintance of hers, though she was tight-lipped on the circumstances. Still, no matter what might have transpired, New Wave couldn’t overlook it if something were to happen to the Heberts. Mark and I both called on our powers as both capes in negotiation grabbed their weapons.

“Faire la paix?” Despite not understanding the words, the tone was conciliatory even if it was grinded out grudgingly by the blonde cape. Gorgon nodded tersely, before her eyes twinkled again with mischief.

“Oui!” The two sword wielding capes then turned away from each other, back to back with weapons drawn. Mark and I moved towards the pair to reinforce them and get an update on the situation, when a familiar booming voice gave me all the information I needed.

“Good afternoon, stacked, spiky and beautiful! And of course the two lovely blondes with their phallic symbols, Mrs M.I.L.F and Ms Supermodel over there!” A tall, muscled man covered in gold paint, chains and a nose ring, dressed in only a gold pair of shorts and a vaguely Middle Eastern looking demon’s mask. Uber’s voice boomed over some hidden speakers on top of the gaudy massive mobile throne decorated with bull statues that was levitated off the ground. Guess he couldn’t kidnap enough people or make constructs to make them drag that pedestal around like in the movie.

“Why don’t you ditch Mr Flashlight over there and join us instead so we can show you what real men could do!” Leet, a man positively scrawny compared to his partner Uber was dressed far more modestly in leather armour and a bronze Persian monster mask strode next to the other villain’s mobile platform as he added to his partner in crime’s horrible attempts to pick us up. And why did Uber call me the name of a defunct terrorist group? I could hear the periods at the end of each letter.

Gorgon’s eyes widened in surprise as she gasped theatrically, swivelling her head towards some rather suicidal bystanders who did not flee at a cape fight. “Wait? You mean the two of you aren’t gay? Between the beating of female prostitutes and those middle school pickup lines, you two are trying way too hard in pretending.”

I totally did not laugh at that tasteless insult. I was just choking on some unfinished coffee.

“Besides,” even with her mouth covered I could still visualize Gorgon’s cruel smirk,” If I wanted to fuck some autistic man-children, I’d hit a special ed school. At least the students there won’t be using a movie licensed videogame like 300 as their theme.”

A flash of light and I saw a horde of similarly dressed projections of the Persian soldiers from the movie appearing while the street was now awash in a shade of brown and gold. Leet was seated on the shoulder of a bald, monstrous man with a crab’s pincer replacing his right hand. A fuming Uber then raised his right hand towards us.

“Brockton will burn!”

///////////////////////////

Taylor Hebert

///////////////////////////

I stared at the ceiling from my bed, feeling drowsy due to oversleep. It was liberating, not having to hide my magic from Dad as the gathered undead swirled around in my room. To the mundane eye, my room would be akin to walking onto a movie set where the smoke machine had gone out of control, covering the place in a thick fog. I lazily traced the air, directing the spiralling ghosts in a ballet complete with an orchestra playing music in the comfortably dark room before I felt someone trigger one of the layered mana fields at the end of Lord Street. My alarm died as I felt the familiar presence of Emma approaching, but frowned at the apprehension visible on her face when I viewed her through my crystal ball. I got up from bed and changed from my pyjamas to something more presentable as Emma approached the gate of our home.

“Morning, Emma. Glad to have you here. Taylor’s resting in her room.” Dad warmly greeted my best friend, sending her up to me. ”Mind the zombie on the stairs.” I could hear his small smile as he teased my ginger friend. I was perturbed however by the shriek of surprise and Emma jumping before I determined there was indeed no stray ghoul that was currently occupying the stairs. Dad hastily apologised to my friend due to her alarmed reaction, but she managed to regain her composure and laughed it off.

“No worries, Mr Hebert. I will just walk myself to Taylor’s room. Just make sure she doesn’t have some vengeful spirit ready to brain me with a vase or anything.” Despite the laughing tone, I sensed a shakiness that wasn’t present in my friend’s manner of speech. Was Emma actually afraid of me? Why? Emma reached my door and rapped on it eagerly. I opened the door with my telekinesis and greeted my friend with a bright smile while the glow of my crystal ball cast a faint light over me, before I noticed with some confusion that Emma was standing outside my door, not coming in. My friend’s face was pale as she looked at me, making me call out to her.

“Hi Ems, come on in. Don’t just stand there.” I walked up to her and noticed that her hands were sweating and shaking as I took them to lead her into my room. I studied her face and saw a very strained smile, unlike the usual easy friendliness she has when with me.

“You’re nervous, Ems. What’s causing it?” She nodded eagerly, and pointed to my drawn curtains that covered the room in darkness.

“That. I mean it’s not your fault your powers make you look like the Wicked Witch of West’s gothic Emo sister, but do you really have to make your room look like the Maw of Darkness Doom’s Dungeon of Doom?” I laughed at my friends’ remarks and pulled the curtains away with a flourish, allowing the sunlight to brighten up the room. Emma visibly relaxed at the brighter surroundings and walked easily with me to my bed where we sat.

“Thanks for coming, Ems. I was worried about you when you ran off from my ward before I awoke.” Emma settled down next to me, but I noticed she was still shuffling uncomfortably on my bed. “Is something wrong, Ems? You’re behaving awfully nervous today.” My friend looked away from me and took several deep breaths, counting to ten under her breath while I waited patiently. Green eyes bore into me when my friend calmed down and faced me, but I could still read the hesitation radiating off her.

“Taylor, I…you…” Emma stuttered as she tried searching for the words, a very unusual sight for the socially adept girl. I hummed softly, purposefully making a show of how laid back and unhurried I was which made Emma frown in annoyance. I grinned at her reaction, drawling out my words. “So are you still a bundle of nerves, or do I have to spaz out some more?”

“No thanks. Your acting like a blubbering idiot made me too annoyed to be nervous anymore.” We both shared a laugh before Emma’s expression turned solemn again. I kept my face respectfully neutral, as Emma began telling me the reason she was here.

“Tay, remember the promise that your mother made me pledge to support you whenever you’re going down the wrong path?” I wracked my brains at Emma’s question, before I recalled the geas my mother had placed on her. I considered the implications of her asking me about it, but decided to wait before making any further moves.

“Oh yes, that promise Mom made you swear upon the Jade Throne. What about it?” I saw a nervous tic developing on the left eyelid of m y friend, the skin twitching away as she blurted out her request.

“Remove that Master effect from me!” I felt a stab of guilt when I saw her shut her eyes in fear, as if expecting me to lash out at her.

“Emma, look at me when speaking to me.” Her eyes slowly opened as my bosom buddy looked at me with trepidation. I gave her my most reassuring smile as I held onto her hand to assure her I meant no harm. “All you had to do was ask, Ems.” I raised my left hand towards Emma, ready to dispel the geas before I paused midway as a thought struck me.

“Ems, did Aunt Aldra tell you about the geas?” Emerald orbs shifted nervously before the redhead muttered, “Yes.”

I felt the phantom pain of Edenfeld plunging into my tummy as I hissed in anger. Darkness fell on the room and I tightened my grip on the traitor’s hand, making her yelp a cry of pain.

“Liar.” I purred at the squirming traitor held captive in my grasp. “Mom never told anyone about this. Tell me, how long you have known Leina Vance?” I was about to make her divulge the details of her betrayal before I heard a voice of reason drag me back to sanity.

“Taylor, stop!” The booming baritone of Danny Hebert- my father- prevented me from doing something I’d really regret as I realised I was hurting my best friend who stayed with me for a week when Mom passed on. I banished the cloaking darkness and I was stricken with guilt upon seeing the drained face of Emma. Dad pulled us aside and shielded Emma with his body, glaring at me with disappointment apparent in his eyes. I guess even without my evil grandma I still am a monster.

“Friends don’t treat each other like that, Taylor. “ I fell back onto my bed, burying my face into my hands as I tried to comprehend what the hell I was doing before I heard soft footsteps and felt Emma’s hands over my shoulders. I continued to keep my face in my hands even as I heard Emma’s gentle voice speak to my enraged parent.

“Tis okay, Mr Hebert. Tay’s just upset over something and got a bit worked up.” I didn’t need to see Dad to visualise his worried look as I heard him asking gently. “You’re aware Taylor’s a cape correct?”

“I kinda figured that out, Mr Hebert. I will be fine.” I felt Emma nudged me gently and she whispered gently to me. “Maybe we can go out to the backyard? I think some sunlight ought to clear your thoughts.” I nodded as I mechanically walked down to the yard, Dad following us at a distance where he can see us but enough for us to keep our privacy.

“I’ve known Maria, or Leina as you called her, for about a year and half now. She’s a tutor that Mom hired for Anne and myself. But Anne’s basically skipped all the lessons, leaving me to attend on my lonesome.” I nodded along as Emma gave me the details on her relationship with the woman who trashed me soundly last night. I felt awful for suspecting Emma betraying me, since she’s aware of my magic long before my debut. If she had been slipping info to someone who wanted me dead, she’d attack me a long time ago. It’s not like Leina’s an actual parahuman bound by the unwritten rules anyway. Thinking over it, it was clear that my opponent didn’t go all out until my grandma goaded her by taunting her with all the awful shit done to her and she still refrained from killing me.

I turned away from Emma, facing the fence. I sensed no one watching us, with most of the neighbours still living here out for work and school so I was able to speak freely.

“Emma, I was a complete bitch just now. If you decide you don’t want to be my friend anymore, I will be heartbroken but I’d understand.” I blinked as I tried to stop the tears flowing when I saw Emma wrap her hands around my waist, the red welts on her left hand reminding me of my actions.

“Taylor Hebert, you are my bestest friend ever! We are besties, and besties don’t ditch one another over one small fight.” I turned around and returned her affection, not caring that my free flowing snot was ruining her shirt. Emma then pulled from the hug and grimaced a bit before she restated her request.

“Now, Tay. The Master effect.” I nodded and wiped my face, prompting a groan of disgust from Emma as I did it with my hand. I used my clean hand and touched her forehead with my index finger and felt for the geas as Emma shut her eyes. I then grew increasingly frustrated as I held onto it before I felt it slip away, then again before I suddenly felt an endless hole and my power slipping into oblivion. Worried for my friend’s safety, I quickly retracted my probing as Emma gingerly reopened her eyes, her face pregnant with hope before it fell as my grim expression informed her of the failure.

“Sorry Ems. The geas appears to be something I cannot safely extract from you.” I felt a surge of protectiveness as Emma began shaking and I held her tightly, whispering my vow to her.

“Ems, the geas is only effective if someone becomes Queen of the Continent.” I felt her nod in agreement as I continued. “Then the solution is simple.”

I knelt in front of her, kissing her ring finger on the hand with the red welts as my power glowed a bright red while it sealed my promise.

“I, Taylor Anne Hebert Kreutz, do solemnly swear in the name of Swamp Witch to win the upcoming Queen’s Blade and offer my friend Emma Barnes liberation from the vow before the Jade Throne.”

I refuse to hand over my soulmate to anyone!

////////////////////////////////////////////////

So, summary of changes to canon.

Glory Girl gets some real pain inflicted on her in the first real cape fight she had. She now realises that there are people in Brockton who can go toe to toe physically with her and really lay down the pain, but her pride drives her to fight smarter and harder.

Thanks to Aldra, Carol Dallon is acting more like a mom to both her daughters and Mark Dallon is undergoing extensive therapy for his depression, allowing him to function more effectively. Panacea in turn doesn’t have too many emotional and mental baggage going forward since she actually has something like a functional family.

Taylor’s cape ID is now hitched onto New Wave’s bandwagon after they stuck their necks out for her, while the PRT gets plausible deniability if MP never resurfaces and if she does resurface as a NW affiliated hero, it’s still a win for the Heroes since a reformed villain fits into their PR aim of being responsible in their use of powers. By facing the reality of her magic and necromancy, Taylor's grasp of the powers of Swamp Witch becomes more versatile.

Taylor’s now got two motivations to win the Queen’s Blade. The chance at possibly bringing her mother(s) back and also to prevent her best friend from being mastered by someone else becoming Queen. The geas applies to the crown, meaning whoever wins the next QB gets Emma as a freebie. Right now, as the child of the reigning Queen the geas is assuming Taylor is the object of the promise, but it doesn’t come into full effect until another living Queen is crowned.

Uber & Leet are now willing to use movie licensed videogames. My deepest apologies for any U&L fans out there. I thought of Soul Calibur, but decided that half naked muscle men are a good contrast to the half-naked women of QB. The fight will likely play out in the PHO interlude I’m working on, so please participate in the RP I’ve set up. It really helps to liven things up? Also apologies to actual autistic people out there, but as you can guess, Aldra is kind of a bitch to people she doesn't like and doesn't choose her insults very carefully.

As always, please give me your comments, suggestions and questions. Thank all of you for reading till now.  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, summary of changes to canon.
> 
> Glory Girl gets some real pain inflicted on her in the first real cape fight she had. She now realises that there are people in Brockton who can go toe to toe physically with her and really lay down the pain, but her pride drives her to fight smarter and harder.
> 
> Thanks to Aldra, Carol Dallon is acting more like a mom to both her daughters and Mark Dallon is undergoing extensive therapy for his depression, allowing him to function more effectively. Panacea in turn doesn’t have too many emotional and mental baggage going forward since she actually has something like a functional family.
> 
> Taylor’s cape ID is now hitched onto New Wave’s bandwagon after they stuck their necks out for her, while the PRT gets plausible deniability if MP never resurfaces and if she does resurface as a NW affiliated hero, it’s still a win for the Heroes since a reformed villain fits into their PR aim of being responsible in their use of powers. By facing the reality of her magic and necromancy, Taylor's grasp of the powers of Swamp Witch becomes more versatile.
> 
> Taylor’s now got two motivations to win the Queen’s Blade. The chance at possibly bringing her mother(s) back and also to prevent her best friend from being mastered by someone else becoming Queen. The geas applies to the crown, meaning whoever wins the next QB gets Emma as a freebie. Right now, as the child of the reigning Queen the geas is assuming Taylor is the object of the promise, but it doesn’t come into full effect until another living Queen is crowned.
> 
> Uber & Leet are now willing to use movie licensed videogames. My deepest apologies for any U&L fans out there. I thought of Soul Calibur, but decided that half naked muscle men are a good contrast to the half-naked women of QB. The fight will likely play out in the PHO interlude I’m working on, so please participate in the RP I’ve set up. It really helps to liven things up? Also apologies to actual autistic people out there, but as you can guess, Aldra is kind of a bitch to people she doesn't like and doesn't choose her insults very carefully.
> 
> As always, please give me your comments, suggestions and questions. Thank all of you for reading till now.  
> 


	17. PHO interlude

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A PHO interlude

A/N: A shout out to @lostgamer64 and @DDEATHSHADE. Thanks for helping me with the RP.  
Also, PHO interludes are a pain in the ass to write.

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■  
♦Topic: Sword Capes! Now with Magic!  
In: Boards  
>Cape Afficianado (Original Poster)  
Posted on July 30, 2006:

Hey anyone managed to see what the flying fuck happened in the Trainyard last night? No I wasn't referring to the catfight between Brandish and Gorgon. That one got cut after the light show happened on the other end of the Trainyard and Gorgon bolted.

The whole place was wrecked, but not as bad as Mist Phantom. Heard she got a sword to her gut after she got decked in the face. Then Bombshell then straddled her and used her glowing sword to mark her forehead. Seriously, this is some SM shit.

Here's the pic of Bombshell. after she backed away from a fight with New Wave and Gorgon who was outright pissed. Gorgon! Who the fuck can piss her off? She even posed for a picture with me and was generous enough to give a show of extreme cleavage for the memories.

Glory Girl's been spreading the word she wants payback for her right hand and the two broken ribs she got after she flew fist first into Bombshell's shoulder and the other cape punched back. That's the new cape who pounded Mist Phantom by the way. The official story of course is that Mist Phantom got her ass beat and fled from Bombshell, and the tall girl who's carted off to the hospital in a ski mask is a new trigger that New Wave is looking after. New Wave claims that they found her in the aftermath of the crossfire between Bombshell and Mist Phantom. Funny how she got a sword to the belly too huh? So either the PRT is retarded or they think that blowing out with New Wave over one cape wasn't worth a good working relationship.

The NW really went to bat for Ms Not Mist Phantom here. Seems unbelievable considering MP hit the Merchants and E88 unprovoked with massive property damage, then tried to make the PRT back off with her Moses act and the Zombie Whale. Heard clean up crews are still dredging the bay and clearing beaches for bits of churned and burnt seafood.

Gorgon is obviously Mist Phantom's buddy of course. Medieval theme costumes, bullshit Shaker, Blaster and Brute powers with bladed Tinkertech weapons.  
Also Mist Phantom claims she's eleven? Who the fuck believes someone with those curves and body is eleven?!  
(Showing Page 1 of 6)

► Lostgamer64 (Verified Badass) (Uber & Leet #1 Fan)  
Replied on July 30, 2006:  
You know what would have made it better? Video Game sound effects. Affects? I don't English very well.

► Cape Afficianado (Vertified Cape Fan)  
Replied on July 30, 2006:  
knew it! The Sword capes like Gorgon, Musketeer and Brandish must have triggered after playing X rounds of Soul Calibur. This explains everything!

Which explains why my linked pic to Bombshell, well bombed.

Also, Bombshell apparently isn't as stealthy as she thought, because one of the hobos that were driven screaming away from the Trainyard by Mist Phantom was still lucid or horny enough to snap this pic.

[IMG]

Those thighs! Dat ass. Yoga pants 4 life.:naughty: Because they barely cover anything.

Sorry Gorgon about your creepy necro buddy who thinks she's a kid, but I'm Team Blonde Bombshell now!

She's got a cooler sword than yours and she doesn't go around flooding the city in a thick fog that made me crash my car.

But it's more like tights though? Patights?

Now if only we can get Brandish into those outfits.

► Lostgamer64 (Verified Badass)) (Uber & Leet #1 Fan)  
Replied on July 30, 2006:  
@ CapeAfficianado  
Do you think she has some type of brute rating? or her clothes act like female armor in games? Do all female capes have magic game armor?

► Cape Afficianado (Vertified Cape Fan))  
Replied on July 30, 2006:  
Hell if I know, unless the PRT releases the word on her. Considering she tanked a hit from Glory Girl of all people though, I think it's a given.

I mean, GG. She's meant to be like Alexandria level invulnerable and her right hand got busted just be a reflex action from Bombshell.

I guess GG now stands for Good Game.

► Saint Saiyan (New Member)  
Replied on July 30, 2006:  
What I'd like to know is why every other female cape looks like a supermodel sex-goddess.  
No, seriously is it the powers? Is there an underground kingdom of hot women who come up to the surface to fight crime? Do they just appear from thin air?  
For #$%@& sake , it's like I'm living in a comic book!!

 

► Cape Afficianado (Vertified Cape Fan)  
Replied on July 30, 2006:  
Are you seriously thinking that Mist Phantom is an 11 year old? Even if she is the girl is a Brute. Mush tried compacting her and got wrecked.

► Saint Saiyan (New Member)  
Replied on July 30, 2006:

Cape Afficianado said: ↑

Nah we aren't in a comic book. If we are then we are in one of those shitty Aleph ones that are trying to be "realistic."

I said we were in a comic, not that it was a good one.  
Lostgamer64 said: ↑

Speaking of edgey, how grilled do you think Halbeard got after shooting at a "poor defenseless little girl?"

Cape Afficianado said: ↑

Are you seriously thinking that Mist Phantom is an 11 year old? Even if she is the girl is a Brute. Mush tried compacting her and got wrecked.

If she's 11, I'm over 9000.

 

► Gorgon (Verified Cape) (Verified Not a Merchant Stoner) (Brandish's Nemesis)  
Replied on July 30, 2006:  
Hi Brandish, sorry for skipping out on our scheduled romp last night. But as you've seen I've got to keep my new buddy Mist Phantom from getting her head lobbed off by an old friend who's really pissed at her predecessor.

I promise to let you have a free shot at me at our next fight! Rogue's Honor. All because you New Wave folks acted like actual heroes and helped me drive off Bombshell.

@Bombshell. If you're reading this, that little gastric bypass you gave Mist Phantom was way over the line. I appreciate you not lobbing her head off when you got her pinned down. Your sisters wouldn't have been so restrained. IF she had been her predecessor, I wouldn't be upset if you had given her a shave neck first. But this one ain't. Mist Phantom ain't the Swamp Witch, and we're working to ensure she doesn't become one. So if you're up for it, PM me and we can talk. I promise to not break your neck-this time.

Also for those of you who have no clue what the hell a Swamp Witch is, lucky you.

► Saint Saiyan (New Member)  
Replied on July 30, 2006:

>Gorgon (Verified Cape) (Verified Not a Merchant Stoner) (Brandish's Nemesis) said: ↑

Also for those of you who have no clue what the hell a Swamp Witch is, lucky you.

Let's see here...  
1\. High level striker/shaker/brute powers;  
2\. Propensity for heavy duty violence and unmitigated escalation;  
3\. Drive to prove oneself above others due to a superiority complex accomplished through acts of terrorism;  
4\. Oh! And, of course, magical bullshit powers that give you a 20-yrs old appearance and boobs three times the size of my head...  
Is that about right.

► Gorgon (Verified Cape) (Not a Merchant Stoner) (Brandish's Nemesis)  
Replied on July 30, 2006:  
Like I said, lucky you.

I thought you Earth Bet types didn't believe in magic?

Protip: Myrridin is a hack wizard and a faker.

► Bombshell (Verified Cape) (Not a villain)  
Replied on July 30, 2006:  
Firstly, Glory Girl.

Just for getting me get stuck with this cape name, the next time we meet, I will break your other hand. And the other set of ribs that I missed the other night. Heard your sister is a very good healer, which is good because you will need all the tender loving care after I'm done with you.

Nothing personnel, kid. I know, I know. You're considered a kid here on Bet, but back where Gorgon and I came from, 12 is a-ok for dishing out and taking beatings. Gorgon herself won the Queen's Blade twice when she was your age. So suck it up you big baby.

Like I said, nothing personnel. I became what I am today because my teacher's administered beatings and then I learned how to dodge em and began to dish out my own. You'll learn soon enough.

Now onto the fun part. Earlier this afternoon I had a meeting with Gorgon who brought along some bystanders to catch up on old times. After some heated exchanges of my stabbing her protege Mist Phantom to save her from becoming a puppet of the Swamp Witch that threatened to take over her mind, we were rudely interrupted by geek villains Uber & Leet, who decided to go along with a licensed movie videogame as their theme this time around.

A licensed movie videogame. Gorgon and I both felt personally insulted by their choice and called a truce. But since they went with what's perhaps the most homoerotic game and movie this side of an Aleph mpreg fanfiction, Gorgon mocked them mercilessly before the both of us, along with Brandish and Flashbang wiped the floor with those two. So right now, U&L are on their way to a nice PRT holding cell, before they get thrown into the big house.

Note that I disagree with Gorgon's labelling them of being a gay couple. Actual gay men would be offended by their choosing of 300, and Leet didn't even show his abs.

► Glory Girl (Verified Cape) (New Wave)  
Replied on July 30, 2006:  
@Bombshell

Actually, I was gunning for Pornstar or Stripper when we were discussing cape names for you. I think it's very appropiate because you dress skankier than an ABB sex worker, probably cheaper too.

Also, personal you bottle bleached blonde.  
End of Page. 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6  
//////////////////////////////  
Carol Dallon shot a dirty look towards her daughter, who wasn't at all looking properly contrite. Probably because her husband Mark was too busy wiping off tears while laughing away at the ensuing flame war between Bombshell and Victoria.

"No more of this tomfoolery, am I clear, Victoria Dallon." The effect of her cold command voice was negated by her husband's continued chuckling at the reactions to the virtual catfight. Maybe she should cut the anti depressants dosage her husband was taking?

"Cross my heart, Mom." Her blonde daughter swore while the widening grin on her face clearly showed she had no intention of folding this developing feud with her fellow Brute. The older cape rubbed her temples, eyes shut as she decided she had enough silliness for the day. Dealing with Uber and Leet along with Gorgon in one day was enough to hit her quota several times over. Carol waved her daughter away and was about to turn towards her husband to remind him of proper behaviour as befitting a father of two before she heard her daughter hesitantly calling for her.

Victoria Dallon, hesitant. Someone cue the flying pigs.

Her daughter handed her an envelope, with a red wax seal with an elaborate design that had been broken. The envelope itself was made of silk laden paper and the letter within was scented, with the contents written in elegant handwriting. A pity she didn't read French. No return address or stamp, so hand delivered.

"It was Musketeer, Mom. She delivered it to me when she suddenly popped up out of a dark portal before disappearing again into it." The New Wave adults were now fully attentive to their daughter's recounting of the events. Musketeer wasn't a know villain, but mysterious Rogue Capes were barely that much better.

"She mentioned something of an invitation to the Queen's Blade for myself and Amy."


	18. Arc 2.1 Domination

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mist Phatom attempts to make amends.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N Who would have guessed I’d get so far in the first place. My thanks to all those who stuck with me throughout this journey and to myself for actually finishing an arc in my writing.Please leave a comment if you can. A writer doesn't improve without some feedback.

Arc 2.1 Domination

 

///////////////////////////////

I glared at the projected screen in front of me, willing for the annoying figure on the other end to choke on something while she droned on and on about some other obscure legal opinion on the rights of humanoid races within the Continental Dominion. Of course it could be something like the inherent right of the humanoid races to moon the Pope under Dominion law and it’d still bore the hell out of me.

To think I was so excited to be in constant contact with Mom’s old friends on the Continent via this magical projector that doubles as a cross dimensional communication device. The Continentals simply called it a Pict projector.

Well, I didn’t actually will for misfortune on Yuit, since then the Little Elf would actually be choked by her own shadow-I think, never tried applying my magic across dimensions yet- but I was certainly thinking it. The shadow of a smile on the Little Elf’s face certainly implied she was enjoying boring me to death.

At least it’s not on court protocol, now that was drier than the Arizona border and twice as lifeless. If I hear commentary on which pinkie I was supposed to stick out while drinking tea again one more time…

“Your Highness, please pay attention.” I puffed my cheeks in annoyance as Mom’s old subordinate snapped me out of blissful daydreaming. It was difficult for me to imagine Mom as an actual queen, even harder still for me to imagine her having been a warlord in some far off sword and sorcery realm.

But Mom’s always been regal according to Dad, toning it down only when I grew older. My human grandparents had also mentioned to me that being a mother had changed their daughter a lot.

If only they knew how much. But then again, they moved away from New England when I was six, so there’s that. Perhaps I could track them down one of these days, but then it’d raise the question of why their underage grandkid travelled from the East Coast to Florida by herself.

“Princess…” Yuit tried to menace me with a low growl. God, can’t she take a hint?

Emma who was seated next to me in the atelier came to my rescue, defusing the situation as she raised her hand and distracted my tutor.

“Yes, Ms Barnes.” The pint sized chancellor shot me a glare as she acknowledged my friend, “At least someone is taking their duties seriously.”

“So, Ms Yuit,” Emma said in the sweet deferential tone she adopted when buttering up the Little Elf. Works every time too. “I heard from your last lecture the Dominion has chosen their rulers for a century and a half with the Queen’s Blade Tournament. Why is Taylor considered a princess since succession is not through the relations with the queen?”

My ears perked up at Emma’s question. It did bother me slightly why I was referred as an actual princess considering their system.

But Yuit’s lecturing tone was so boring. I never got around to asking her more than was necessary in case she launched into an hours long lecture on Continental history.

“It’s a holdover from the days before the Queen’s Blade when the Vance ruled most of the known world. In practice however, the Queen’s family had less influence and power than a powerful noble in their fiefdom since the Queen had no right to confer ownership of lands outside of Gainos.”

“Till the conclusion of the War of Thunder.” I added.

“Yes, till the War of Thunder shattered the status quo and enforced royal authority over the entire Continent.” Yuit said gravely. That war was always a heavy topic to discuss with the Little Elf since she had hinted at doing some really awful things during it. She kept silent on the details, I didn’t want to probe. Aunt Aldra had said in passing that some things are best left to the older generation to sort out. I would soon have plenty of my own to clean up.

A pre-war population of one hundred million, reduced to seventy million after the war. The entire species of Elves wiped out to a handful of survivors and other atrocities committed during the conflict. I shuddered at the thought of a conflict waged by a continent of parahuman like species. That the Swamp Witch was also majorly responsible for the conflict also left me feeling a sense of dread.

“After your mother became queen, “Yuit quickly switched topics, not wanting to dwell on the sombre reminder of that conflict,” We had seriously considered simply allowing hereditary monarchy to once again be the norm, until the Head Angel vetoed that option with threat of intervention.”

Divine Right of Queens is very real on the Continent, and so are the rules and obligations with the redline being no hereditary succession without a Queen’s Blade. It almost makes Earth Bet with the Endbringers and superheroes seem normal in comparison.

“So now that the tournament is inevitable unless we want the Angels swooping down from on high, we decided that training you for the throne and supporting you to the fullest would be the next best option to ensure stability for the Dominion.” At least Yuit is honest in her reasons for helping me.

A beeping alarm from my clock, and I grabbed my notepad and swept out of the room with Emma in tow. I heard Yuit yelling out after me as I hurried up the stairs. Teachers are the same across dimensions.

“Remember to read up on Archmage Zara’s commentary on the use of domination magic!”

I greeted Dad as I exited the atelier before transforming into my Witch form and teleported to the edge of downtown. I glanced at my watch and prepared myself. Gorgon will be here soon.

If my divination was correct, I have a Ward patrol to intercept. I really hope they have not forgotten me after a lull of four months.

///////////////////

From the top of this office building, I was able to see the gleaming shield of the PRT HQ overlooking much of downtown. I wiped the sweat from my brow as I peered onto the street below, awaiting the approaching Ward patrol. In the weekend between Christmas and New Year’s Day, the Protectorate and the Wards especially would hold highly publicised foot patrols over the major parts of Brockton Bay as community outreach. As a rule, none of the gangs and individual villains would attack the patrols following the legacy of Marquis’ time as the ruler of BB’s underworld. Sure enough I spotted Dauntless and Battery walking at a leisurely pace, pausing to greet families and also sign autographs. I felt a twinge of pain as the sight of the Wards mingling with the crowds reminded me of the times Mom would do the same when she was in better health. I felt Gorgon’s hand tap me on the shoulder before she pointed at the pair walking towards the building I was watching them from. Brushing aside the nostalgia, I leapt from the building, my crimson and gold mantle flapping in the wind as I landed softly on the ground with the winds buffering my approach. My aunt remained on top of the roof, hidden from sight. If things got violent, then she’d intervene but otherwise the plan was for her to stay out of sight.

I briefly considered if I should summon the Witch’s Staff to my side as I tensed upon noticing Dauntless’ Arclance charging up but decided for once to not escalate things into a brawl. I held out both my hands to show that I was unarmed, causing Battery to signal her partner to point his weapon away from me. Score one for diplomacy. Even from one city block away, I could make out Battery’s face moving into a mouthpiece likely seeking backup. After my display in July though, I don’t blame them. Putting down my hands, I walked slowly towards the patrolling Wards until I came to a stop some hundred feet away. Dauntless’ Greek style helmet covered most of his face, preventing me from telling his intentions even as he stood ready with his shield’s forcefield humming away. Battery in contrast was obviously highly agitated by my appearance, not surprising considering our last meeting.

“Hello Battery. I was expecting you to have taken the holiday weekend to recharge.” Note to self, practice cheeky banter more often. That one physically hurt to speak.

Rather than react to my greeting, I saw the female Ward call on more reinforcements. This goes on, the place will be swarming with PRT and Protectorate capes. Time for the direct approach.

“I’d like to join you guys. On a patrol as apology for my misbehaviour earlier this year.” Battery’s eyes narrowed at my request, but spoke in code into her earpiece. Possibly to inform the PRT that I wasn’t hostile…I hope.

“Now why would you want to join us? After what you did back in the summer, we thought you had gone on the lam or was scooped up by New Wave.” Huh, so the Protectorate thinks I’ve been inducted into Auntie Sarah’s group. Not surprising, but I can’t be more indebted to New Wave more than I already have.

“Believe it or not, I’m not with the New Wave, nor am I going to join them in unmasking.” Despite the unwritten rules, having Emma and Dad being targeted because of me was still too high a risk. Officially joining the New Wave was right out. I slowly walked over towards the Wards, keeping my hands in view as Dauntless and Battery became more visibly relaxed.

“So you’re joining us as a Ward? I remember you said you’re eleven.” I shook my head at her question. Joining up with the Protectorate meant getting the MRI scan for the Corona Pollentia, which would risk outing my true nature. An unacceptable risk since there’s no telling what kind of reaction the PRT and the government as a whole would have if they were to believe demons and magic are real. Possibly something unpleasant.

“I’d like to go indie, if you don’t mind.” I’m sure they do, but between having me join up with the gangs and me going Indie, they’d probably choose me going Independent. Battery gave me a slight smile, even as she tapped her ear piece. A code then to signal my actions to her minders.

“I personally wouldn’t, but my bosses might have some objections.” Battery held out a gloved hand and I looked at the heroine in grey and white. “Still, If you can come down to PRT HQ for an interview, briefing and get yourself registered you’d be on the right side of the law.” I cringed at the mention of the law and the memories of having reams of legal learning being force fed to me by Yuit. Still, it’d be good to not have the press calling me a prodigy in evil again. Thankfully, Werbellia isn’t here to suggest releasing a ghoul or ten into the offices of the media to change their minds.

I took Battery’s offered hand and began my first walk on the streets as a real hero.

/////////////

Even though the demeanour of Battery and Dauntless were both stiff as cardboard and solemn as a funeral home when on patrol, they did their level best to enlighten me on the workings and what to look out for while on the beat. Such as how while parahuman related crimes fell during the week between New Year’s and Christmas fell, non-powered crimes actually shot up. Emergency services also reported a spike in cases, due to merry making people less inclined to take common sense safety precautions. All things I would have never learnt without the aid of a government sanctioned Hero while pounding on the pavement. Even the obvious presence of the PRT troopers trailing us did little to dampen my mood.

Lording it over the skyline of Brockton Bay with my wraiths combing it may give me a bird’s eye view of the issues plaguing my home, but you really have to view things from the ground to realise something’s rotten in the city.

“Panacea is likely going to be swamped with requests once she begins volunteering in earnest. Currently, she’s a bit too young for most hospitals to be comfortable requesting her aid, powers or not. But once she gets older and more famous, who knows?” Battery’s face was hopeful as she spoke glowingly of Amy’s presence being a boon to the people of the Bay. I personally felt sorry for the expectations that will be placed on Amy’s small shoulders soon. Still, I gave a grateful smile to the female Ward who replied in kind. The thrill of unleashing my powers were ecstatic, but going on the beat as a licensed hero just helping make the city a safer place was just as intoxicating a feeling.

“Still not wanting to sign up as a Ward? I’m sure we can come to an accommodation for any problems you might face.” In stark contrast to the wariness on display at the beginning of the joint patrol, I could see genuine friendliness from Battery as she extended a hand. Even the impassive Dauntless was walking closer to me now, cracking a smile as he did so. I was starting to feel bad having to reject them again.

“Sorry, Battery, but no.” I gave a sheepish smile at the female Ward, who sighed at being rejected while withdrawing her hand. “No harm trying, Phantom.”

We reached the last checkpoint of the patrol, right at the entrance of PRT Downtown HQ. Armsmaster stood there, his trademark halberd strapped to his back while his gunmetal suit gleamed in the afternoon sun. The Tinker held two identical cell phones in one hand and a clipboard with forms in the other. The phones were those new-fangled smartphones that some of the tech geeks were raving about everywhere, but I found little use for. I walked towards the Protectorate leader with the Wards flanking me, making me feel hemmed in but I resisted the urge to break out of my current position. I was here to establish trust, not to make things worse.

“Glad to see you come to your senses, Mist Phantom. Though it is a waste to see you choosing to go Independent, we at the Protectorate will respect your choice.” I eyed him warily and had my wraiths scour the area for additional parahuman assistance than the ones already plainly visible. No one in two city blocks except for Miss Militia inside the PRT HQ and Gorgon two buildings to the south of here.

“The warrant for my arrest?” The armoured hero remained stone faced as he read from a prepared statement on the clipboard.

“As established by Resolution #1134 of the Parahumans Response Team Board of Directors with Chief Director Costa-Brown residing as Chairperson. The outstanding arrest warrant for the Parahuman known as Mist Phantom under the charges of assault against public servants, destruction of public property, assault of a civil servant in the execution of lawful duties, intimidation, reckless endangerment of the public through the use of Parahuman abilities, use of excessive force in the course of Parahuman citizen’s arrest and illegal dumping has been revoked.” Armsmaster handed me a copy of the resolution by the PRT Board of Directors before he turned my attention to him when he cleared his throat.

“I understand that Battery was told you wished to have an interview with us and get registered as a Hero Cape in Brockton Bay, but you wish to do it at a later date once you’ve secured legal counsel.” I nodded and Armsmaster presented both the stack of documents and the two phones.

“To keep in contact with our affiliated heroes, we are giving you some phones that will help you keep in touch with us in times of trouble as a sign of goodwill. The phone on the left with the black cover has the numbers and personal contacts of all existing Protectorate ENE heroes and several PRT senior officials. The one with the grey cover is a decoy phone in case someone decides to steal it.” I gave the phones a worried glance, before meeting the Tinker’s eyes with mine.

“The phones are trackable, aren’t they?” Surprisingly, Armsmaster nodded his head willingly. Honesty from the government they’re spying on you? How brazen.

“The phones, like all phones nowadays are indeed traceable. However, the Parahuman Bill of Rights prohibits the active tracking of any registered parahuman who has not been convicted of a felony or has given his consent to being tracked.” I held my tongue on the chances of the government actually following the laws too scrupulously when it’s not convenient for them. At least if I have proof they’re actively tracking me when I didn’t give my consent, there’s some legal ammunition right there. I took the offered phones with a word of thanks to Armsmaster as I made a note to place the phones somewhere safe and away from my home.

We agreed to meet tomorrow at the PRT HQ at three in the afternoon, before I exchanged warm handshakes with Armsmaster and Dauntless and a hug with Battery before flying away. Making friends with the heroes seem so simple when not threatening them.

///////////

Armsmaster watched the dark cape’s flying figure disappear into the horizon and retrieved the hidden camera drones monitoring the airspace around the PRT HQ. Satisfied once the all clear was reported to his inbuilt console, the armoured Hero turned to enter the building, flanked by the two Wards. As the trio entered the lobby, alarms sounded as metal shutters fell, sealing off the entrances and windows of the PRT first floor. Scores of PRT troopers in full gear marched out of hiding, with Miss Militia directing them as they surrounded the two Wards. Bewildered, the two teen heroes turned to their leader for an answer.

“I have reason to suspect that the two of you warmed up to Mist Phantom way too easily. As such, I am initiating Master/Stranger protocols until the two of you have been cleared of suspicion.” Battery was about to protest her treatment, before a sharp glare from Miss Militia made her reconsider.

Armsmaster wondered to himself as the two Wards are escorted to the holding cells for quarantine. How many powers does Mist Phantom have, and what is the best way to have her put them into service of the Protectorate?

//////////

The full moon shone brightly upon the tombstones as I materialised within the Brockton Cemetery. I released Emma from my mantle’s shadow as my friend emerged from a cocoon of darkness. She looked like a frightened rabbit, shivering and pale. It isn’t surprising since she is standing in a graveyard in the wee hours during the height of winter. I however rested easy, assured that there is currently no other monster more dangerous than myself lurking in the shadows of this place. Despite being dressed in thick winter clothes complete with a thick wool cap and earmuffs, Emma was still shaking from the cold, so I wrapped my cape around her again, willing the air molecules around her to speed up to warm her. I nodded with satisfaction at the colour returning to her cheeks before we both looked at Gorgon descending from the cloud cover.

“So, Mist Phantom.” It still sounded weird hearing my aunt using my cape name. “We have arrived ready for a spot of tomb robbery. Whose final resting place shall we desecrate today?” My bony tail swished in anticipation as I launched into an explanation, my hands forming into fists as I thought of the possibilities.

“Till now, I’ve still limited myself to the mindless undead. I mean, wailing vengeful ghosts and shuffling zombie homunculi are good and all, but they’re just so dull compared to something that can think and act with a mind of her own.” My aunt looked at me quizzically, her head cocked to the side and her eyebrows raised before she shrugged and started strolling towards the charity section of the cemetery where the homeless and those who died with no next of kin were laid to rest. A part of me felt guilty at disturbing the rest of the dead, but the more logical part of me decided that if we can use the fossil of animals and plant life billions of years ago, we can use the cadavers of the deceased homo sapient as fuel for a different project.

I made a point to avoid the parahuman graves, clearly marked differently from the others as I choose which one to raise from the dead as my servant. I sighed as I noticed that most of the markers were not even numbered, only listing the bodies buried by age, sex and estimated date of death. Quite a number didn’t even have those basic information, their plots a simple dumping ground for human refuse. The cherry on top of this sundae of fail however was that none of the dead buried here were suitable for being raised as a sentient wraith. I kicked the frost covered floor in frustration, sending dirt and ice flying as I turned my gaze onto the parahuman section of the graveyard. Quite a number of the dead buried there lit up like a beacon to my senses, drawing me to them as those worthy of my attention. I began walking towards the beckoning lights before I felt a small hand grab my arm and I whirled around to the grim face of Emma.

“Bad idea, Tay. Real freaking bad.” I bit down a retort as I recalled my promise to listen to Emma’s advice not to go wild on an animation spree as I grumbled a muffled agreement. I looked upon the rows of the unworthy dead glumly, wondering if numbers can make up for the shortfall in quality. Frustrated, I turned to a relaxed Gorgon who was watching me with a smirk. My aunt dismissed Demon’s Blade as she made pulled open an invisible door and I got the hint she was giving me.

If the individual souls of the dead are out of bounds, then I will simply sacrifice the spirit energies of the unworthy as payment for one in the Netherworld. I drove my hand into the frozen turf, leather covered fingers and blood red claws easily breaking past resistance by the earth. I unleashed the Blight to the unmarked graves, specifically leaving out the parahuman plots. Altogether, some three thousand graves were selected by the Blight and I summoned the residual souls that stirred from the tombstones on my calling. Emma pulled my cape around herself tighter as she leaned on me, but I was focused on awakening as much potential unlife from the graves before I instructed Emma without turning to look at her.

“Close your eyes and whatever you do, do not answer anything or anyone until you feel me tapping your right shoulder three times in the exact way as we have practiced.” Gorgon moved next to my friend to cover her ears and unleashed her own magic, covering Emma in a red protective bubble of her power. My left hand still buried in the frozen New England soil, for the first time in my life I Spoke the Unspeakable Speech of Demonkind. The tongue spoke a thousand blasphemies against life and creation, the words uttered honoured every evil and depravity inflicted past and present on all life. Obscenity and hatred clouded my spirit as I used my birth right to call upon a great fissure on this world. Only know do I realise just how little I knew what it means to be a demon, what darkness Werbellia had shielded me from through the few years she had spent as my shadowy companion while I struggled to maintain my grip on my humanity.

As the glowing spirits of the dead rose from the tombs, their ethereal shapes shrouded in a black mist I felt my tongue extend to an inhuman length and my mouth distort as I continued to Speak. The Unspeakable Speech was never meant to be spoken by the living, the very utterance a curse on the material world. The sky bled a dark red and I saw the ground dissolve into a whirlpool of churning stew of red and black where beams of light of indescribable colour pierced through the noxious tempest. Gorgon buried Emma’s face into her chest to shield her from the unholy sight and her own power glowed brighter, an oasis of rightness in the rapidly declining madness that rejected the world.

“Heed me, Doors of Madness. Obey me, Rejection of Life.” I trembled at the wrongness of the scene as I spoke words that raged at the order of the world. I suddenly felt a deep respect for Werbellia. If despite this being her nature, she found it in her heart to actually love her human beau and me, she must have some deep affection to actually reject the siren call of her nature.

“In the name of the Swamp Witch, I claim my Title and summon you, my beloved servant. Come forth from the Demon’s Gate!”

The ghosts that swirled above the churning abyss of the whirlpool spun into a storm, as I violently ripped the dead from their rest into the prepared sacrifice. The mass of compacted unlife then smashed into the Gate before they were devoured by the encompassing chaos. I saw a female form leap out of the maelstrom of demonic energy and I forced the Gate to shut with a declaration of my rule over them.

Je Suis Tuerie!

I am Death in her most violent form. I am the Swamp Witch.

I began to breathe easy once more as the natural world began to re-establish itself. Gorgon relaxed as tension melted away from her posture and she dispelled her magic, allowing Emma to walk towards me. I saw the glowing female form that was gorging on the mass of undead I offered as bait, before she began to take a more solid human form. I frowned at the shape beginning to form and looked at my own budding chest and unconsciously felt my hips. If the curves on this wraith I had summoned was any indication, I was going to feel very inadequate during the Queen’s Blade. Damn the Continent and their ridiculous standards of beauty!

The Wraith I had conjured was a thing of beauty. Smooth skin without blemish, red hair that flowed to her hips which outshone Emma’s proud mane and put my own to shame, a womanly figure that seemed unreal on her petite stature of five feet four but she made it work and eyes that switched between blue, green and a mixture of the two every time I gazed into them. I saw ghostly lights gather around my new servant and her body was soon clad in a….good God. I cursed Werbellia’s influence as she dressed herself in black stockings and a frilly French maid’s uniform. And she looked really, really good in it if Emma’s look of envy was any indication. A scythe with a blade that twitched in anticipation appeared beside her, floating in the air as she curtsied before me.

I saw her eyes brim with tears as she greeted me with a voice that screamed warmth and affection, something I did not associate with the undead summoned by unholy magic that literally made reality scream in pain.

“Lady Witch. Your eternal servant Airi once again pledges her loyalty to you. Thank you for calling upon me from death’s grip once again.”


End file.
